


Opera Ghost

by LaufeyOfThay



Series: Thayvian Tales [9]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24111772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaufeyOfThay/pseuds/LaufeyOfThay
Summary: An intended singing lecture for young Edwin, and a tale of mysterious pranks at the Opera House develop into something far more sinister. Pump up your pipeorgan, fetch your opera-glasses and settle down for a tale of masks, mystery, music...and murder.
Series: Thayvian Tales [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717807





	1. Chapter 1

The army of light advanced boldly across the battlefield, foot soldiers leading the way, knights charging up and down the flanks. Though the losses had been heavy the brave young general felt a wild surge of triumph as he watched from his exalted position. This was the day, the day when he would finally defeat his dangerous opponent, the Dark Lord. All his hard work had carried him this far, and now it was time to reap his just reward. Unable to suppress a gleeful smile he gave the order for the frontmost siege-tower to advance towards the enemy encampment. "Ha!" he gloated. "What do you say now, Prince of Darkness?"

"Pawn to D1, and the pawn becomes a queen", his opponent said in a calm voice as he gave the proud leader of the White forces an amused glance. "Check…and Mate. Looks like Black conquers once again, boy."

Young Edwin Odesseiron stared with mute surprise and horror at the chessboard where his unfortunate army had just suffered yet another crushing defeat. The Black army had seemed on the run, scattered and chaotic. Now he realized that it had all been an elaborate trap. "Not again!" the small boy moaned and raked his fingers through his unruly black hair. "I'll never be any good at this!"

"You're getting better", his teacher reassured him. "Why, today it took me all of twenty minutes to beat you. Give yourself some time."

"But…"

"No buts. I don't expect you to become a chess master overnight, and neither should you. Now, I could always make it easier for you by handicapping myself, but something tells me you wouldn't want that."

Edwin's mouth set in a stubborn line. "No", he said. "I want to win properly. Otherwise it won't count." He felt a small burst of pride as he saw the brief and approving smile that flickered across his tutor's face.

"That's the spirit. And now some advice about today's game. The pawns may seem weak and insignificant, but never forget that a pawn who survives long enough to reach the eighth square will become a queen, and a power in her own right."

"I'll remember that", Edwin said and eagerly nodded his head before he started putting the chess pieces away.

"Good. Now come with me. I believe your Mother wished to see you when we were done."

Edwin followed his teacher through the luxurious halls and corridors of the Odesseiron Mansion. It would have been wonderful to win the game, but if he was to be brutally honest with himself, he really didn't expect that to happen anytime soon. Vadrak Dekaras, the Odesseiron tutor, was also the Odesseiron House Assassin, and the deviousness necessary to handle both positions admirably guaranteed that beating him in any game of strategy was never going to be an easy feat. A tall, thin man with a habit of dressing in black, he also had the uncanny ability of always seeming to be able to read his student's mind. Such as right now.

"Yes", Dekaras said before Edwin had the time to more than open his mouth. "I do know why she wants to see you. And no, I won't tell you. That is her business."

They found Elvira Odesseiron in her study, reading a letter with a small frown on her lovely face. A beautiful woman, if intimidating, she currently wore the formal robes of a Red Wizard, creating a nice contrast to her sable hair and flashing dark eyes. "There you are!" she said with a smile. "Who won?"

"Guess", Edwin muttered.

"Don't take it too hard dear", his Mother told him. "I'm only able to beat him half the time myself. You may want to try to trick him into a premature attack towards the wrong side of the board. That works occasionally."

Dekaras cleared his throat, looking slightly annoyed. "Mistress", he said, "I believe there was something you wanted to discuss with the boy. If you have no further need for my services…"

"Oh, but I do. This concerns you too, you see. I've just had some disturbing news." She gave the letter a dark look.

Dekaras simply raised an eyebrow without saying anything, but he closed the door and relaxed into what Edwin secretly thought of as the 'crouching' position. Not that he actually was crouching of course, but something about him gave the impression of a large and dangerous animal that was motionless but ready to pounce in an instant.

Elvira rose from her desk and approached her son, carrying with her a light scent of lilacs and jasmine. "Edwin dear", she said, "you know I have told you before that you have a very nice singing voice."

Edwin knew, alright. Some of his worst memories entailed being forced to sing in front of a crowd of admiring ladies at one of his Mother's parties, all of them cooing over how 'adorable' he was. Edwin did not want to be thought of as adorable, and the same went for 'cute', 'sweet' and 'simply darling', all of them favorite expressions of his Mother's friends whenever they met him.

"So I thought", Elvira said, "that it would be a waste not to give that voice some proper schooling. Which is why I have decided that you should start getting a little introduction into the wonderful world of music. It will be useful for your spellcasting as well, in many spells it is important to use the exact right intonation or the spell will backfire. Fortunately it just so happens that I have an old friend at the Pyarados Operahouse, Lady Flora who is their current primadonna. She has very kindly agreed to show you around the Opera and give you some instruction. Isn't that nice of her?"

"But…", Edwin tried.

"I said, isn't that nice of her?" Elvira's smile never wavered, but Edwin could recognize the hint of steel in his Mother's voice. Clearly escape was not an option.

"Yes, Mother", he sighed. Perhaps if he sang really badly, he would be let off early.

"And I expect you to do your very best. I would be most disappointed if you embarrassed me in front of my friend."

"Yes, Mother", Edwin said again, looking at his shoes. It seemed he would have to suffer through the whole thing after all.

"Fascinating as this no doubt is, Mistress", Dekaras said, "I still fail to see what it has to do with me."

"I was just getting to that." Elvira thoughtfully tapped the letter against her chin. "You see, Flora is worried about something. She says there is something strange going on at the Opera House. Pranks, or something like that. She wouldn't go into many details, but it seems somebody is out to disturb her performances. I thought you could look into it. I am after all one of the principal owners of the Opera House. I need to take an interest."

The assassin's expression didn't change visibly, but there was the sudden sensation of a cold wind blowing through the room. "Pranks, Mistress?" he asked in a chillingly polite voice. "Don't you think that would be…how to put this…a waste of my talents?"

"Oh, don't be like that. You know perfectly well you haven't had much to do lately. I thought it would be good for you. You'll just get moody if you don't get to exercise your brain regularly, you know that as well as I do. You can take Edwin to his appointment with Flora and then do a little snooping around on your own."

"Very good, Mistress", Dekaras said in an entirely emotionless voice that told Edwin he thought quite the opposite. "I shall, as you so eloquently put it, 'snoop'. Anything else you want me to look into? Lost handkerchiefs? Kittens stuck up trees?"

"No, that's it", Elvira said. "Though you might be a dear and pick up a bottle of perfume for me on your way back. You know the kind I like. I've told Flora to expect you both in an hour, so you'd better hurry."

Edwin followed his teacher out of the room, being very careful not to say anything or even breathe loudly. The way the assassin still hadn't changed his expression told Edwin that he was in a very foul mood indeed. Dekaras, in fact, didn't speak in anything but monosyllables until they were halfway to the Opera House. It rained heavily outside, and so they had taken one of the family carriages. While comfortable enough, it also prevented Edwin from seeing very much through the narrow windows, and he was starting to get bored. "What's opera like, anyway?" he asked. "I've never been."

Dekaras gave him a considering look across steepled fingers. "I'm really not the best person to ask", he said, "given that I'm biased. I can't stand it myself. But if you feel the need for a brief summary, then I suppose I can comply. Opera is much like theatre, except that the actors sing rather than talk." He made a brief grimace. "The more tragic the story, the more popular the opera, in general. Or at least it is so in Thayvian opera. They frequently feature star-crossed lovers, bitter rivalries and blood feuds. More often than not all the important characters die before curtain-fall."

"That doesn't sound too bad", Edwin said.

"No? Then allow me to add that they don't simply die. After having received, let us say, a fatal stab wound, the dying primadonna then has to wail out a thirty-minute aria before she finally gives up her breath and puts the audience out of its misery." The assassin shook his head in disgust. "I much prefer silent deaths", he said. "The theatre isn't half as bad. I might stretch my imagination far enough to imagine a dying person making a speech, but I really can't see anybody singing when they've just been impaled or poisoned. I can't help it; it offends my professional sensibilities."

"Oh", Edwin said, not really understanding at all. "Do you know Lady Flora?"

"No. Most likely she is simply a hysterical artist out to get some attention." The assassin's black eyes narrowed in sudden warning. "And that", he said, "is a statement you will not repeat. Do you understand?"

Edwin nodded. He did, after all, possess some sense of self-preservation.

The Opera House turned out to be a building like nothing Edwin had ever seen before. It was large, and mostly square, situated close by the river where it crouched like some large and hulking animal. But the truly remarkable thing about it was the gargoyles. Every square inch of the entire building swarmed with them. Grinning gargoyles, leering gargoyles, gargoyles with rainwater spouting out of their open mouths. Large, small and middle-sized gargoyles. Gargoyles resembling demons and devils, others that looked like strange crosses between different animals, yet others that looked almost human until you noticed that they had, for example, a forked tail. "Wooow!" Edwin said as he stared at the hideous monsters in front of him. "That is so awesome!" Then he blinked. He thought he'd just seen one of the gargoyles, a fat one with big round eyes, turn its head and wink at him.

"It is rather extraordinary", Dekaras said, his voice taking on a lecturing note. "No other building in Pyarados has so many ancient gargoyles. As you can see, they are all enchanted into a semblance of life, something like golems. They are very good for keeping the pigeons away, or so I understand." Then he pulled the hood of his black cloak up against the still pouring rain. "Now close your mouth before you drown. Since we are expected I suppose the stage entrance will be the most convenient." 

The stage entrance turned out to be a small door around the corner of the building. It was manned by an old man so bent and small that Edwin first mistook him for a gnome, with thin papery skin almost exactly the same color as his gray hair. "Visitors for Lady Flora?" he said in a solemn voice. "Very well. She mentioned that she was expecting company. Please come with me. Though why she bothers I really don't know. She should know better than to trifle with Him." After making this cryptic comment he led the way to a small and private sitting-room, somewhere deep within the bowels of the Opera House. It was warm and cozy, with several small couches and tables, and with sheetmusic stacked on the shelves. The one odd thing about it was that there were no windows, just doors leading off in different directions. After a few minutes wait one of them opened and the Primadonna made her entrance. 

Lady Flora was a beautiful woman in her thirties, tall and impressive. Everything about her seemed big, Edwin thought. She had a wide and generous mouth, large and glittering dark blue eyes, and a rich mass of chestnut hair artfully piled onto her head. She was also rather full-figured, making her resemble a large ship as she sailed across the carpet to meet her guests, indigo skirts sweeping behind her. "Welcome!" she said in a rich and warm voice. "Elvira told me you would be coming. I am Flora Medora. Please, call me Flora."

After introductions had been made the Primadonna gave Edwin a friendly smile. "So, you are Elvira's young one, are you? She has told me so much about you. It will be a pleasure to oversee your introduction to the opera. You will find it is a fascinating place, with much to discover."

"Can I see the gargoyles?" Edwin asked excitedly.

Flora laughed. "But of course! There is a walkway near the roof where they can be viewed admirably. Not today perhaps though, it will be rather slippery in this rain. But there are many other things. The costumes, the trapdoors, the props…yes, I think we will be able to keep you occupied, quite apart from my giving you singing instruction. But there is another matter to be dealt with as well, one with which I believe your teacher is going to be kind enough to aid me."

"Ah, yes", Dekaras said. "The 'pranks'. Please, tell me all you know, without leaving anything out." The assassin was sitting in a comfortable armchair, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The relaxed position made an odd contrast to his eyes, which had suddenly become even more intensely concentrated than usual. Edwin guessed, quite correctly, that his teacher had decided that Flora was no hysterical artist simply out to create a stir. If she had asked for help it would likely be a serious matter, at least in her eyes.

"It is hard to know where to begin", Flora said, her eyes serious. "First I must ask you how much you know about the Opera Ghost?"

"Opera Ghost?" the assassin said, his long nose twitching slightly with amusement. "I always thought that was a legend."

"Most people do. So did I, until recently. Oh, there had always been whispers of his presence here at the Opera, foolish chorus girls pretending to have seen him, strange voices calling to them in the darkness…that sort of thing. I never believed it myself. True, there could be a real ghost here, but then I would think somebody levelheaded would have seen it once in a while. But now…things have changed." The primadonna held out a bunch of letters. Edwin could see enough to tell that they were all brief and written in red ink. "They all say approximately the same thing", Flora said. "That I have 'disgraced' the Opera. That I should resign from my post, lest the wrath of the Opera Ghost fall upon me." She pursed her lips. "The last one was the worst. I found it this morning, lying on my pillow when I awoke, though both my door and my windows were still closed and locked." She held it out to the assassin who unrolled the parchment and read the threatening missive out loud.

"Interesting", he said. "'The Matron Mother is a magnificent part. You are unworthy of singing it. Let it pass from you or suffer the consequences.' And it is signed 'the Opera Ghost'. What a very unusual ghost this must be, to be able to put pen to paper like this, not to mention being so particular about the inner workings of the Opera House. No, unless I see his ectoplasm for myself, I have to say that I think it highly unlikely this is the work of a genuine ghost. I say there is a very mortal mind behind this plot. Is there anybody here likely to bear you ill will?"

"Many that I know of", Flora said with a rueful smile. "And certainly, many more that I do not know of. I am, after all, the Primadonna. Any position of power will bring enemies, and there are those who dislike me for personal reasons as well. But which one would do this, and how they would be able to get into my chambers like this…that I do not know? It worries me that they should have access to me in my sleep, and I want to find out who is behind this plot."

"Very well", Dekaras said, his sharp-featured face animated with interest. "I find your problem an intriguing one, and I will be pleased to look into it for you."

"Then I am truly grateful", Flora said. "Come with me, I will take you both down to the stage and show you around. With luck we will meet some of the other singers as well."

The stage was dimly lit, and it was set to portray some sort of dark cavern, with a black pool in the distance and an oppressive sense to it. Edwin stared at it in wonder as he followed Flora through the dark salon with its endless rows of empty red chairs. As he craned his neck backwards to look up, he saw the walls disappear far above into the darkness, the roof so high that he couldn't make it out. An enormous chandelier floated high above, a marvel of crystal and candles, currently unlit. On the stage a man and a woman were discussing something in quiet voices.

"We are currently preparing for the premiere of 'The Matron Mother', Flora explained. "It takes place in the Underdark, and is about the tragic love between Divisia, the Matron Mother of a Dark Elven House, and a human adventurer seeking the lost treasures of the Underdark."

"Charming", Dekaras said in a very dry voice. 

"Oh, I agree. It is a load of nonsense and totally implausible. But there are some really nice arias. I sing Divisia of course, and the one I do when I poison myself at the end is quite lovely." The primadonna raised her voice as they neared the stage. "And here are two of my fellow artists", she said. "This is Rovel Rannyel, our best tenor. He plays the Hero against my Divisia." Rovel Rannyel bowed politely. He was a good-looking young man, with light brown hair, earnest blue eyes and broad shoulders. "And this", Flora continued, "is our dear ingenue. Cirindaeriella, though we all call her Ciri for short. She's a soprano as I am, and sings the part of Faerela, Divisia's daughter who attempts to steal her mother's paramour for herself."

"What's a paramour?" Edwin whispered.

"Never mind", Dekaras told him. "Ask again when you get older."

Edwin found Ciri very interesting. She was an elf, and he had only very rarely seen an elf before, and never spoken to one. She was also very pretty, with long golden locks that framed a mild and innocent face, huge sky-blue eyes and almost translucent skin. Delicately pointed ears bespoke her heritage, as did the slant of her large eyes, the small mouth that resembled a rosebud and the frail and flower-like beauty of her face. The lacy white dress she wore further empathized the impression of fragile innocence. "What a pretty, pretty little darling boy!" she cooed in a dove-like voice. "Have you come to partake of the music of the spheres, my sweet one? Are you Ciri's own little admirer?"

Edwin instantly decided to hate the elf forever and ever. "No", he said. "I'm actually a very small demon here to eat your soul. But now I think I've changed my mind, 'cos I don't want to get sick from all that sugar." 

The elf just gaped at him, but Rovel Rannyel got quite red in the face. "Now see here, you little brat", he said. "You take that back right now or…"

"Or what?" Edwin asked. "You'll start singing to me? Wow. That is scary. Did you know that there's a piece of meat stuck between your front teeth?" The singer coughed and clasped his hand across his mouth, trying to rid himself of the offensive substance.

"Rovel?" Ciri asked in a wounded voice. "Didn't you promise me that you'd stop eating dead animals? Think about all the fluffy little lambs and rabbits, not to mention the pink little piggie-wiggies!"

"It was just a mistake!" Rovel protested. "I…forgot myself!"

Crystal clear tears rose in the elf's blue eyes, surprisingly enough without her getting either red-faced or runny-nosed. "You…you don't love me anymore!" she wailed.

"NO! I mean YES! I love you my darling, my dearest angel, my own. I just forgot!"

"You wouldn't forget if you truly loved me!"

"Now, now children", Flora said with an amused smile. "Settle down. As I was about to say, our young guest is Edwin Odesseiron, son of one of our beloved patrons. And this is his tutor, Master Dekaras."

"Charmed", the assassin said in a very dry voice. "It is so interesting to meet people like yourselves, talented visionaries and artists. How I envy the exciting lives you must lead."

Ciri smiled shyly at this. "I just want to sing", she said. "To reach out and touch people, to touch their hearts in my own way." Rovel gave her an adoring look. 

Flora now led her guests backstage and towards the costume and props department.

"That was a very original way of greeting people you displayed back there, boy", Dekaras said, giving his student an unreadable look. 

"Are you mad at me?" Edwin asked, feeling a little worried.

"No, not really. I thought it a rather succinct summary of my own first impression of the young lady. However, saying exactly what you think about people isn't always the wisest choice, satisfying as it may be. I don't want to see you get in trouble over insulting, say, a lich. Just try to rein in that tongue of yours a little bit."

"Oh. All right. I'll try."

"Good." Dekaras now turned to Flora. "Is Ciri by any chance interested in advancing her own career?" he asked. "To put it simply, is she after your position and would she send you these anonymous letters to frighten you out of it?"

"I think not", Flora said. "Ciri has a sweet voice, but it is unschooled. It doesn't have the power necessary for a part like the Matron Mother. And she's such a shy little thing, no fire, no ambition. I think she is perfectly content where she is."

"Perhaps. But perhaps somebody else is being ambitious for her?"

"Rovel?" Flora laughed. "Forgive me, but you do not know him like I do. Rovel is a true gentleman. He wouldn't concoct a plot like that. Besides, I doubt he'd have the brains for it. Ah, here we are now. The costume and props department."

The costume and props department turned out to be large room, filled with rows upon rows of clothes. Peasant clothes hung next to the jewel-studded garments of kings, soldiers’ uniforms next to priest robes. Some were truly outlandish, clothes to make you look like strange creatures and beasts from all over the world. Mindflayer masks, complete with tentacles. White wigs to create the impression of drow. Mermaid tails. A long row of grinning werewolf faces. Most wonderful of all, a dragon. A large black dragon, with long white teeth and gleaming red eyes. Well, it was only the head and the front paws, the rest was just a wooden construct, but it was still marvelous. Edwin couldn't help himself. He had to take a closer look. He simply had to. With a loud crow of delight, he ran over to the beast and climbed onto its paws, eager to see better. And here was a rope, dangling from the side of the dragon's head. Curious, he reached out to give it a tug.

And then he felt a hand at his collar dragging him away. "Don't. Touch. Anything." His teacher's voice sounded as if it was coming from between clenched teeth.

"But I was only…"

"No. I **know** you, remember? Touch nothing without permission. I mean it."

Edwin sighed. "I never get to have any fun", he complained. Then he saw the look in his tutor's black eyes and thought it prudent to keep quiet. Even the dragon didn't look that threatening.

"Since your idea of fun and satisfying your curiosity usually involves destroying valuable property or getting yourself into mortal peril, no. You don't. At least not without asking first."

Flora winked at Edwin. "Here", she said and showed him two barrels. "One is for fake wands, the other for fake swords. Completely harmless, but they look exactly like the real thing. Go on, take a look."

Edwin peered into the barrels and drew out a fake wand, a red one almost as tall as he was. "A wand of Fire!" he said excitedly. He made a threatening gesture in the direction of the dragon. "Fear for your life! It's over!"

"Oh my", said a voice from somewhere behind the great beast. "I certainly hope not. After all, who would sing Mafistes tomorrow if I got burnt to a crisp?" The speaker now became visible as he came strolling out of the shadows. He was a short and stout man with a prominent jaw, and a thin scar on each cheek. As he spoke, he twirled his impressive black moustache between his thick fingers. He wore a flamboyant shiny red cloak, lined with black fur, and beneath it he had on a black vest, covered with small, sparkling stones. White teeth shone as he smiled at Flora and bent to kiss her hand. "Radiant as ever, my dear", he said. "And who are your guests?"

Flora's smile faltered a little as she pulled her hand away. Then it was back again, as she proceeded to introduce her guests. "And this", she said, "is Durel Fradelent, our baritone."

"The one and only", the man said with yet another oily smile. "But right now, I hardly remember my given name, I'm putting my entire being into Mafistes."

"Who's he?" Edwin asked.

"I'm glad you asked. Mafistes the Dark is one of the parts of our new opera, the Assassin accompanying the young Hero into the Underdark, secretly planning to slay him. I think I've got the look of cunning evil down pat now, don't you?" He twirled his moustache again.

"You certainly have got something", Dekaras said in an emotionless voice. "Tell me, how does your character fare?"

"Oh, he stabs the Hero just as he is about to escape to the surface with the Matron Mother. Then he is torn to pieces by the drider who were watching the whole thing."

"Of course. I should have known. And while he is being torn to pieces, does he by any chance sing an aria?"

"Oh yes", Fradelent beamed. "It's a really good one. But I prefer the one before he kills the Hero, myself."

"Let me guess. He walks up behind the man, stands around for a long while in the open, all the while singing about how he's planning to kill him, and then he stabs the poor unsuspecting fool in the back?"

Fradelent looked puzzled. "That is so uncanny! How could you possibly have known? Did Flora tell you?"

"No. Just put it down to deductive reasoning if you want."

"Oh. Well, I hope you'll get to see the premiere at any rate. Few people have the privilege of singing while working, but those of us who do are always happy to share. And now I really must hurry, I need the seamstresses to take a look at this costume. I don't think I'm going to stand out enough on stage as it is…"

"Perhaps you could make it entirely red", Dekaras suggested with a polite smile. "That would certainly seem to fit both your and your…Assassin's…personas."

"You know, I actually think I might do that. Thank you very much, good sir! It has been a pleasure, a true pleasure speaking to a fellow Art lover!" He waved cheerfully and walked off.

"Well", Dekaras said. "That was…fascinating. Tell me, is he always this…"

"Foolish?" Flora said. "Yes, I'm afraid so." She wiped the hand that Fradelent had kissed with a lacy handkerchief and gave it a disgusted look. "I wish he'd just leave me alone, but he refuses to take the hints." She sighed. "Come, we will go by way of Makeup. Then I think we will see to that singing lesson before it gets too late in the day."

Edwin shuddered. That was something he was definitely not looking forward to. He shot the rope dangling from the fake dragon yet another yearning glance. Perhaps he could get away later to investigate it a little further. Flora now walked on into an adjourning chamber, a long and narrow room with several mirrors on the wall. There was a table and a chair in front of each one, and the smell of powder was heavy in the air. Lots of small jars and boxes were standing on each table. "I have my own dressing room of course", Flora said. "All the stars do. But I thought you might want to meet Madame Mis. The chorus girls call her Madame Misery. You'll see why." The primadonna raised her voice. "Madame Mis?" she called out. "Are you here?"

"I am", said a faint voice heavily fraught with doom. "Who tempts fate by raising her voice in His chosen realm?" A very small person stepped out of the shadows at the other end of the room, where she had apparently been emptying a vase of flowers, judging by the fact that she was clutching a bouquet of dead roses in her arms. She was so small that Edwin almost thought her a dwarf at first. But she wasn't stout enough, he thought, and besides she had no beard. She was just a tiny human woman, with a hunched back and her black hair tucked into a bun so severe that it made Edwin wonder if it allowed any blood to flow into her skull. Her face was very white and pasty, so probably not very much at any rate. The woman was wearing a black dress that reached her ankles and that was buttoned up front with a long row of shiny buttons that resembled glittering skulls. A pair of small and very shiny boots peeked out beneath the hem.

"Now, now", Flora said with a kindly smile. "You know I don't believe in that sort of thing."

"You should", Madame Mis whispered. "You should. The Opera Ghost is everywhere. He sees all, he knows all. He will not suffer the frivolity and blasphemy you display."

"Blasphemy?" Dekaras asked. "Do you consider him a god, then?"

Madame Mis gave him a gloomy look. "What other God does the Opera House need but its Ghost?" she asked. "He is Lord and Master. Those who would defy him do so at their own peril. And they will regret it. Did he not show his ghostly visage only yesterday during rehearsal?" 

"That was just Ciri being silly", Flora said with a slightly patronizing smile. "I saw nothing myself." She then introduced her guests. "Madame Mis is head of the Makeup and Costumes Department", she explained. "And very good at it she is too."

Madame Mis snorted. "The Ghost has been good enough to approve of my work so far", she said. "You will regret crossing Him." Then she gave Edwin a curious look. "And what of you, little one?" she asked. "Does the Ghost not frighten you? Does not the thought of him fill your innocent heart with dread?"

"No", Edwin said in a confident voice. "He doesn't scare me at all."

"And why is that? Are you then a cleric filled with the holy power of his God to walk the dark realm of the Ghost without fear of retribution?"

"No", Edwin said. "I don't need any silly old God for that. If that Ghost tries being mean to me, Teacher Dekaras will deal with him. Right, sir?"

"Indeed", Dekaras said with just the barest wraith of a smile. "After all, the undead may die once more. No one is invulnerable, and I do mean no one. This Ghost might do well to remember that, in case he should feel the urge to interfere with my student."

Madame Mis clucked her lips disapprovingly, but she said nothing more. She simply shook her head and scurried off, muttering quietly to herself.

"She is very much in awe of the Ghost", Flora explained with a worried look in her eyes. "And it's getting worse. The chorus girls live in dread of her ghost stories, you know, and she thrives on their attention. Sometimes I wonder if perhaps she is a little insane. But come. I will show you both to my quarters, and I will see what I can do about that singing lesson." Flora was rather silent and withdrawn during the walk back to her quarters. "I worry about Madame Mis", she finally said. "These tales of the Ghost…they bring her power of a sort. Those easily awed come to her in search of charms and such. And she enjoys the attention. I fear she resents my opinion that there is no true spirit behind the happenings at the Opera House."

"And does she resent it enough that she would wish to punish you for it?" Dekaras asked.

"Perhaps. A year ago, I would not have thought so, but now…I don't know." They were standing outside a large door now, one marked with golden star. The Primadonna produced a key and started unlocking it. "She is getting stranger by the day, and…" Flora fell silent as she pulled the door open and her face turned very pale, almost as pale as that of the odd Mistress of Costumes. The room within was an elegant one, with a large embroidered dressing screen, a beautiful makeup table and a lovely large mirror. And on the mirror, there was writing. Large letters scrawled all over it, in a bright red substance that almost seemed to glow. 

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED the writing said. OBEY OR SUFFER

"The Opera Ghost…" Flora whispered. "He's been here…"

Dekaras motioned for the other two to stay back and then cautiously entered the room. Once satisfied that no intruder remained inside, he turned his attention to the writing on the mirror. "Fascinating…" he said. He methodically investigated the shiny surface as well as the frame, and almost seemed to be sniffing at the writing, like a tracking wolf picking up a trail.

"Is it blood?" Edwin asked.

"Don't be ridiculous", the assassin said. "It is much too thick." He carefully scraped some of the red substance off the mirror and deposited it in an empty envelope. "I shall have to examine it further of course, but it seems to be makeup."

"Makeup?" Flora asked. "You don't suppose…"

"I prefer not to 'suppose'. I find out. And I will. But in the meantime, I suggest you lend me all the letters you have received so far so that I may take a closer look at them. Another thing. Is this the room where you sleep?"

"Yes…"

"You shouldn't. The person who did this obviously was able to access it easily without even leaving marks on the lock. I advice you to change your quarters, preferably to take lodgings outside the Opera House."

"I second that", a strange voice said. Edwin turned to see a large man standing behind himself and the Primadonna. He wasn't exactly a young man, but he still looked extremely strong. His brown and close-cropped hair was flecked with specks of silver, but his body was hard and heavily muscled, and his face might as well have been chopped out of a slab of granite. He was wearing nondescript brown clothes and a heavy leather vest. "This has gone on long enough", he said, and there was the hint of suppressed fury to his voice. "If you will not take my advice, then what good am I? I say leave now, let the culprit be caught and return once it is safe to do so."

Flora's mouth set in a stubborn line. "I won't", she said. "I am the Primadonna, Bjeric. Not some easily frightened slip of a girl like Ciri. I will not leave until they carry me out feet first."

The man growled deep in his throat and grasped the Primadonna's arm. "And that may well be the case if you refuse to listen!" he growled. Then he seemed to become aware of the strangers once again and checked himself. "My Lady", he belatedly added and gave a stiff bow.

"My personal bodyguard, Bjeric Stardoss", Flora explained. "He takes his job very seriously." She then introduced her guests to the bodyguard who gave them both suspicious looks. "I fear that singing lesson has to wait somewhat", she apologized. "I feel a little unwell at the moment and I think I need to lie down."

"Perfectly understandable", Dekaras said in a smooth voice. "I'm sure young Edwin will understand as well, despite his disappointment. Won't you, boy?"

"Huh?" Edwin said. "Oh! Yes. Of course."

Flora smiled at him. "I'll make it up to you", she said. "Tomorrow I will be too busy with practicing myself, but I think I'll make sure to send over some tickets for the premiere. I think you'll like that." She exchanged a look with the assassin. "And besides, if anything should go wrong, I would appreciate your presence all the more. That is if you don't mind."

"Not at all", Dekaras said with a perfectly straight face. "There is, after all, nothing like a night at the Opera. I should like to take a further look at this room before we leave though. There is still the matter of determining how exactly this so called ‘ghost’ gained access to it. Does anybody but yourself keep a key?"

“Only the manager. He carries keys to all the rooms at the Opera House, but he always keeps them on his person.”

“And that is hardly reassuring”, Bjeric Stardoss said in a dark voice. 

“Oh?” Dekaras asked and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Do you have a reason to suspect him of wanting to sabotage his own primadonna then?”

“Of course not”, Flora cut in. She sounded more than a little irritated. “Bjeric is just being overprotective as usual.”

The bodyguard gave her a stubborn look. “My Lady, you know as well as I that he…”

“Enough!” Flora snapped. “You forget yourself. We will discuss this no further; the whole idea is ridiculous.” 

Dekaras was watching this exchange with what might easily have been interpreted as polite disinterest. Edwin could tell that he was listening very intently though. “I see”, he said in a neutral voice. “Still, keys may be stolen, given a clever enough thief. Of course, the lock may also have been picked. There are no obvious traces, but that proves nothing.” He drifted over to the tall windows, outside which the rain was still falling heavily. “The windows, I think, were not breached. The dust on the windowsills has not been disturbed for some time. You may want to have a word with your maid about that.” He turned around, taking in the walls. “Or there could be a secret entrance, I suppose. If there is, I could probably find it, but it would take some time.”

“Really?” Stardoss said in a somewhat hostile voice. “Not as clever as you’d like to pretend then, Mr Amateur Investigator? I have been in this business for years, you know. I know my work, and I know this place. I have no use for outsiders.”

The assassin gave him a cool look. “I assure you”, he said, “that I have no intention of intruding on your turf, neither professionally nor otherwise. I am sure you are quite competent as such things go. However, sometimes a more specialized brand of knowledge is called for, and that is what I have been asked to provide. Now, I do not know how familiar you are with secret entrances, but unfortunately, they are seldom accommodating enough to glow bright purple and make a pinging noise in order to attract your attention. These things take time.” He turned to the primadonna. “My lady, I leave this decision up to you. If you prefer it, I may return later to continue with this line of inquiry.”

Flora rubbed her temple. “Yes”, she said. “Yes, I think that might be for the better. Come back tomorrow, before the premiere. As for the tickets, I will arrange to have them sent over.”

“Very good, my lady”, the assassin said and gave her a brief bow. “Until then.”

It was still raining when Edwin followed his teacher out of the Opera House. “Flora is really nice”, he said. “Why would anybody want to hurt her?”

Dekaras sighed. “There are plenty of reasons why people want other people out of the way”, he said. “Money, ambition, hate, even love. Others as well.” He lifted Edwin into the waiting carriage and then jumped into it after him. “In Flora’s case, I can easily imagine reasons for each of the people we met today to harbor such ill wishes. So far, they are pure conjecture, however. And stop kicking the seats.”

“Wow”, Edwin said and guiltily pulled his feet in. “I wish I could think of…of what you said.”

The assassin’s black eyes turned strangely wistful for a second and he pulled his cloak closer as if he were feeling cold. “No, you don’t”, he said. “You are still a child, and you have no idea how fortunate you are that you are allowed to be one. Which is as it should be.”

Edwin didn’t quite grasp all of this, so he seized upon the most important part of the sentence. “But I’m big!” he protested. “I’m almost seven now, remember?”

“Oh yes”, his teacher said in a completely serious voice. “I think you’ve mentioned it once or twice before in fact.”

“See? Then I’ll be almost a grownup, right? Seven is big! And then you’ll teach me how to summon demons, right?”

The assassin didn’t even blink. “Ah”, he said. “Demons. My apologies, boy, but I think that is going to have to wait just a little while longer.”

“How long?”

“Let’s just say that before I even consider letting you near a scroll with a demon summoning spell I want to see you beat me at chess.”

Edwin’s face fell. “Oh.”

“Three times in a row.”

“Oh.” Edwin gave a deep sigh. He strongly suspected he’d have a long white beard before that happened. “I suppose I’ll have to start practicing then.”

“You do that.” The assassin leaned back in the carriage seat, indicating that the conversation was at an end. “That might keep you out of some trouble at least”, he muttered. “Always assuming you don’t manage to animate the chess pieces or something.”


	2. Chapter 2

The tiny woman in the luminous white dress carefully advanced through the dark corridor, bravely seeking her destiny. Only a few steps more and she’d be safe. The way had been fraught with danger and treachery, but she was close to her goal now, so very close. The door was in front of her, the door that would bring her the power she craved, and the power due to her. She reached out her small hand towards the doorknob. And then she screamed shrilly as a towering dark shape seized her from behind. There was a blinding pain, and then she knew no more.

“Noooo!” Edwin moaned. “I was so close!”

“Being close”, Dekaras said, “is no use if you’re dead.” He placed the discarded white pawn among its fallen fellows and gave his own black knight an encouraging pat before putting it down firmly on the seventh square. “You can’t be that open about advancing your pawn if you truly wish her to become a queen. Subtlety and deception are crucial, as well as long-term planning.” He gave the board a brief look. “You’ll have to try again another game. You don’t seem to have many pieces left, and I believe I will win in…three moves at the most.”

And so it was. Once it was all over Edwin asked his teacher the question that he’d wanted to ask all afternoon. “You were gone all morning”, he said. “Did you go back to the Opera House? Did you find any secret entrance? Did you find out who’s been mean to Lady Flora?”

The assassin gave him an amused glance. “Curious, aren’t we?” he said. “Well, I suppose there is no harm in answering you, not that there is very much to tell. I did visit the Opera and did in fact find a secret entrance in Lady Flora’s chambers, rather cleverly hidden inside the wardrobe. Unfortunately, it only led me to an empty corridor, and there were no hints about who might have used it. The red substance from the mirror turned out to be makeup, as I suspected, but getting hold of some would present no problem to anybody familiar with the Opera House. I do not yet know who is behind the plot. I spoke some more with a few of the singers and members of the administrative staff but learnt nothing useful. Only that they are in awe of this ‘Ghost’ or pretend to be.” 

“What will you do now?” Edwin asked.

“I will be going along to the Opera House this evening. Since Lady Flora insists on singing at the Premiere it is likely that the Ghost will try something. Then we shall know more.” He frowned. “I wish she would reconsider performing, but she is adamant. And then there is the matter of Stardoss. He insists on being the one posted behind the stage, and she lets him handle all security arrangements. Which means that I shall be stuck in your parents’ private box during the performance, since Stardoss seems to think my presence might distract the lady.”

Edwin felt indignant at this. “That’s not fair!” he said. “And it’s stupid too, you’d do a much better job than him.”

“Perhaps”, Dekaras said in a noncommittal voice, though there was the hint of a brief smile on his face. “And I thank you for the vote of confidence. Unfortunately, life isn’t fair, and neither of us is the one with the power to make this decision.” He paused. “Stardoss used to be a member of the Pyarados Guards. He is fairly competent, but not what I could call imaginative. Still, it is what it is and I shall have to adapt accordingly.”

There was a discreet knock at the door, and one of the servants entered. “Pardon me, sir”, he said with a slightly nervous glance at the assassin. “Young Master. The Master and Mistress require both your presence in the Trophy Room. There is a messenger from the Opera House.”

The Trophy Room was one of the odder chambers of the Odesseiron Mansion. An old ancestor wizard had been fond of hunting dangerous monsters for sport, preferably using magic only. He had eventually been eaten by a Green Dragon, but before that he had managed to bring home quite a large number of grisly trophies. Due to their tasteless nature they had been relegated to a room of their own. Some were mere mounted heads; some were stuffed and placed in lifelike positions around the room. There was a roaring Umber Hulk, a giant troll swinging a human femur, a tentacled Mind Flayer combating a small Beholder and many, many others.

Edwin loved them all. They made for great games, when he would pretend to be a powerful wizard exploring strange and wonderful places. His particular favorite was the tiger. The huge cat had a powerful and broad back, and with its soft fur it made the perfect place for resting and thinking. One of its paws was raised to strike, sharp claws bared. Its teeth were shiny and white, while the eyes were a beautiful amber and very lifelike. Edwin would frequently pretend that it was alive. He wished it were. It would have made a wonderful pet. Well, assuming he could have kept it from biting his head off.

The carpet of the Trophy Room was black with squiggly white patterns that made you think they were moving about if you looked at them too long. Elvira Odesseiron was standing in the middle of it, and for some strange reason all the horrendous beasts in the room seemed to shrink away from her. She was wearing formal robes of vivid scarlet, and as always, they made her look like a queen expecting the supplications of her loyal subjects. Her husband wasn’t so fortunate.

Galen Odesseiron was a skinny man with an amiable and constantly confused face, and an ability to create complete and utter chaos while simply and innocently attempting to amuse himself. As always, his newly washed and ironed robes looked as if he’d been sleeping in them for a week. “Hello, hello!” he chirped in a cheerful voice and ruffled Edwin’s hair. “I say, isn’t this terribly exciting?” He hauled out a small leather-bound book. “I’ve decided to start collecting autographs, you see. And this is such a wonderful opportunity, with all those stars…”

Edwin didn’t pay much attention to him, being far too busy staring at the third person in the room. It was a strange boy, maybe fifteen or so. He was tall and awkward, with a messy shock of bright red hair and freckles all over his face and whenever he moved his arms and legs flailed about in a rather alarming manner. “Hello”, Edwin said. “Who are you?”

The boy started. “Ah…me?” he asked. “I’m just Ogder, I work at the Opera House.”

“Ogder has brought our tickets for tonight”, Edwin’s Mother explained. “And he is going to escort us back to make sure we avoid the worst crowds.” She turned to Ogder. “What is it you do normally?”

The boy blushed slightly. “Oh, a little of everything, ma’am”, he said. “I run errands, and work with the props and such. I help with painting them, and copying out signs and so on, but what I'd really like is to be an actor or singer myself. Anyway, I’m really good at drawing. I may not know my letters, but if I see something, I can always draw it.”

“That’s great”, Edwin said eagerly. “Can you show me some?”

“Of course,” Ogder said with a friendly smile. Then he looked a little nervous. “That is, if Lady Elvira has no objection.”

“Perhaps later”, the lady in question stated and gave her son an indulgent smile. “But right now, you really need to get changed, dear. Hurry up, and we’ll leave as soon as you’re done.” Edwin nodded and hurried out of the room, patting the stuffed tiger on his way out. It gave a great and bloodcurdling roar as the cantrip he had placed on it some weeks earlier was activated, and Ogder started nervously. 

"Don't worry", Edwin told him. "She won't bite unless I ask her to." For some reason the boy didn't look very comforted by this.

A couple of hours later Edwin was sitting in the private box reserved for the Odesseiron Family, feeling bored out of his skull. He was leaning his arms against the shiny wooden railing and his chin against his arms. With a great sigh he blew his dark fringe out of his eyes and tried to make some sense out of what was going on down on the stage, which was still portraying an Underdark cavern. Rovel Rannyel, dressed up as the young Hero, was prancing about the stage, hollering something about 'Cleanse this Evil taint, and claim her heart, the heart of one of Dark intent." Kissing stuff, Edwin decided. Boring. The singer went on about he wanted to 'taste her sweet love or have her slay me with her cruelty.'

"That won't be necessary", Dekaras murmured in a very low voice. "I'll be happy to slay you myself if you don't stop your screeching." The assassin was sitting at one end of the box, looking almost as bored as Edwin was. He, at least, had won the battle over clothes, flat out refusing to put on anything involving lace, ruffles, giant collars or any other hallmark of current Thayvian fashion for non-wizards. He wore his customary close-fitting black leathers with an air of defiance that hinted that commenting on the subject would be a very bad idea and likely the last thing the person in question ever did. Edwin hadn't been so fortunate and had been forced into a dark green velvet suit that his Mother insisted made him look like a 'perfect little gentleman.' He still hadn't figured out how to make her understand that that was the last thing he wanted to look like. He would greatly have preferred to look as menacing as his teacher.

Edwin sighed again, gaining himself a sharp look from his Mother, and watched the stage. Durel Fradelent had come on stage now, dressed all in vivid red for his portrayal of the Assassin Mafistes. The man twirled his outrageous mustache and took was what obviously supposed to be a villainous stance, crouching slightly and with his scarlet cloak raised to partially cover his body. "Thy foolish love shall never be", he sang in a threatening voice and gave the Hero an evil glare. "Nay, for I am truly Death come for thee!" Edwin thought he could hear his teacher groan quietly. The boy closed his eyes and yawned. Perhaps, if he tried hard enough, he could manage to go to sleep.

Behind stage Flora Medora was feeling nervous. Not about her next entrance, oh no. She had the Matron Mother well in hand. The Opera Ghost was another matter entirely. So far there had been no sign of him, but she didn't dare hope for her good fortune to last. She paced, her eyes darting here and there. The air was hot and stifling. She gave the water carafe placed on a table for the singers' benefit a long look. Perhaps she should take a drink.

"Are you unwell?" Ciri asked as she came up from behind. The elf's sky-blue eyes were as wide and innocent as ever, and her long hair gleamed like a golden waterfall. It made a strange contrast to the black facial makeup and the white wig she twirled between her fingers. "Would you like me to get you something?"

"No, no child. I will be fine."

"It's that horrid ghost, isn't it?" Ciri asked, pouting prettily. "How could anybody say such awful things?"

"Things?" Flora asked sharply. "What things? And what do you mean 'say'? Have you spoken to him then?" She felt a trickle of sweat slide down her back and wished that her Drow costume hadn't been quite so hot.

"Well, no!" Ciri exclaimed. "Of course not. But his voice can be heard from time to time, singing in the darkness. And he says…well…"

"Well?" Flora asked in a dangerous voice, adapting her best 'Matron Mother' look.

"That you're no good as a singer anymore", Ciri hastily said in a fearful whisper. "Th-that you should step back and l-l-let somebody else be the primadonna."

The anger was a slow wave, hot and powerful. "Oh really", Flora said and grasped the front of the other woman's clothes, dragging her closer. It wasn't particularly difficult since the blonde elf was so small and light, as frail as a bird. "Such as you, perhaps?"

Ciri didn't resist, but her blue eyes rapidly filled with tears and her lips started trembling. "I-I only wanted to h-help", she sobbed in a pitiful voice. "You're being mean! You're hurting me!"

"Mean? You haven't seen me be mean yet, girl. But if I find out that you've been trying to steal my position, then you will. And believe me, that pretty face of yours won't help you then."

"What's going on here?" Rovel Rannyel came out from the stage, looking very dashing and handsome in his 'Young Hero' costume. A fake golden platemail, a brightly glittering and equally fake sword and a bright blue cloak all helped him look the part. His brown locks were slightly tangled and sweaty from his latest aria and his blue eyes were unusually stern.

"Oh Rovel!" Ciri pleaded. "Flora's saying all these horrid things about me! She has such a wicked mind to even think such things, when all I ever wanted was to raise my voice in song like a pretty little nightingale!"

"Now see here!" Rovel said and gave Flora an angry look. "You have no right to mistreat Ciri simply because you have problems of your own. She is a sweet and compassionate girl, and she doesn't deserve your bitterness."

"And what does she deserve?" Flora asked. "To be Primadonna? Well, let me warn you right now then. That will never happen, not as long as I'm here. I suggest you two run off and play kissing games instead. That's about as much as 'Little Miss Prim' can manage, I guess."

Ciri gasped and put a slender hand across her heart. "I would **never** …"

"Probably not. More's the pity for poor Rovel."

"Come my love", Rovel said and offered the elf his arm. "She is just a bitter old woman. Here, let me help you refresh yourself from this ordeal." He led the elf over to the small table where the water carafe stood and poured her a drink. The elf sipped it daintily, leaning on the man's arm all the while. Flora gave Ciri a contemptuous look as she walked out. Such a silly little girl. 

"Troubled, my beauty?" Flora felt a hand on her arm and turned around to find herself face to face with a ridiculous black mustache floating over a vividly scarlet suit of clothes. "Durel", she acknowledged in a cool voice. "Haven't you got anything better to do than pestering me?"

The baritone gave her a smoldering look, one that made her feel more than a little unclean. "No, my sweet", he said. "Won't you reconsider my offer? You know I could make you swoon with untold pleasure if you would only give me the chance."

It might have been the heat, the worry or a combination of both. Whatever the reason, Flora reacted before she had the time to think, slapping her offensive admirer firmly across one cheek. "I've told you", the Primadonna snarled, "to leave me alone. And yet you stalk me wherever I go, undressing me with your eyes, making lewd comments as often as you can. Well, no more! I've had it with you, Durel Fradelent! Now get out of my sight!"

The baritone's eyes were brimming with rage and humiliation, and the scar on his left cheek glowed a ghostly white against the red imprint left by Flora's hand. "This was your last chance, lady", he said. "I've been nice so far, but this I will make you regret." He turned on his heel and stalked off, scarlet cloak swirling around him. He paused by the water carafe, but then apparently thought the better of it, for she didn't see him pick it up. Flora saw Madame Mis come up to him and fuss over his costume before he walked back on stage. The woman gave Flora a very dark look across her shoulder, but quite frankly the Primadonna didn't care. She had worse worries than the opinions of some madwoman. 

Flora sighed. She was supposed to go on stage soon, and she was in a worse mood than before. Ciri and Rovel had gone on stage to sing the 'Temptation Duet', so at least she didn't have to watch them, but she badly wanted some support of her own. "My Lady", a gravelly voice said behind her back. "May I help you?"

Flora started and turned to see the harsh face of her bodyguard. "Bjeric", she said, and her face lit up with joy. "I'm so pleased to see you." And she was, truly. He was not only a loyal bodyguard, but a devoted lover as well. Hiring him had been a rare stroke of luck. Right now, though his eyes were uncommonly cold.

"I saw you speaking with Fradelent", he said. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

Flora blushed, and then instantly hated herself for doing so. How dare he imply that she be unfaithful to him? And with that creature? "Pity you didn't hear us then", she said, her own voice equally frosty. "Or you would have heard me dismiss him. Strange that you didn't see me slap him though."

The guardsman's stony face trembled a little. "It could have been a lovers' tiff", he said. 

"Don't be ridiculous! You have no reason to be jealous, I wish you'd understand that. Have you seen anything suspicious so far?"

Bjeric shook his head. "Nothing", he said. 

"Well, that's something. Could you get me a drink of water? I'm supposed to go on stage in a few minutes and all this arguing has made my mouth dry." The bodyguard bowed and did as he was bid, pouring her a big glass. Flora drank it eagerly. There was a faint taste of lemon to the water. Not bad at all, actually. Perhaps this would help her give the Matron Mother what the part deserved. Flora smiled and stepped onto the stage, once again prepared to take on the world. 

Up in the Odesseiron box, Edwin was still bored, increasingly so. The singing was still going on. Worse, it now seemed to involve dramatic declarations of love between the Hero and the Matron Mother. Kissing stuff, Edwin thought with a disgusted grimace. How yucky. Can't they do a swordfight or something? He stared at the ceiling high above where fat little naked imps were painted doing unpleasant things to each other, involving pitchforks and boiling oil. For some strange reason they were also wreathed in flower garlands. Having tried to count the imps more than once and lost his count somewhere between forty-seven and ninety-eight every single time Edwin gave up and turned his attention to the giant floating chandelier. It was really pretty now that all the candles were lit, it sparkled in all the colors of the rainbow, almost like magic.

A flash of dark purple smoke suddenly obscured the chandelier, causing Edwin to stare in surprise. When it cleared there was a dark shape standing on top of the chandelier, a person cloaked in deepest black and with a blank white mask covering the face. "HOLD!" it cried out in a voice that echoed throughout the Opera House. The music faltered, the singers turned their faces upward towards the unwelcome guest. In the audience people were whispering and pointing. "THE OPERA GHOST HAS COME!" the dark shape shouted. "I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY FURTHER PROVOCATION. I HAVE GIVEN ORDERS, AND YOU HAVE FAILED TO OBEY THEM. SO BE IT THEN." 

Edwin turned around. His Father was staring at the Ghost, a look of transfixed wonder on his face. His Mother, too, was looking upwards, and her face was a mask of frozen rage. But his teacher was hardly paying any attention at all to the mysterious creature. Instead Dekaras was watching the stage intently. Edwin tried to see what he was looking at. Flora was standing next to Rovel Rannyel, looking proudly defiant. Behind them Ciri had clasped her hand to her chest. Her face was fearful, and her lips moved as if in silent prayer. There were a few chorus members on stage as well, portraying Drow warriors, and all of them were pointing and staring at the ghost. 

"Damn you!" Flora suddenly cried out. "You will not get away with this!" And she started singing, taking up where she had been interrupted. _You know not whom you trifle with_ , she sang. _Powers greater than you are on my side._

The Opera Ghost seemed a little taken aback, but it didn't give in that easily. "FOOL!" it cried out. "DEFIANCE MEANS DESTRUCTION!"

_Challenge me, and they shall tear bloody stripes out of your wretched hide._

"THEN FALL, FOOLISH ONE! FALL, FOR THE GLORY OF THE OPERA GHOST!"

Flora opened her mouth, but this time no sound emerged, only a strangled croak. Then her face and body started jerking violently and she dropped to her knees, her entire form wracked by the terrible spasms. Her eyes were bulging as if they were about to pop out of their sockets. Ciri was screaming shrilly, a piercing sound like that of a stricken bird. 

Edwin could hear his tutor swear briefly, a few snarled-out words that he couldn't recognize. The content was obvious though. Then the assassin was out the door, disappearing down the stairs leading from the box as quickly as if a pack of angry demons were after him. Not that Edwin would have bet any money on the demons right now, not after having seen the look on Dekaras' face. Then he saw his Mother stand up in the box like a Goddess of Vengeance, staring down at the stage. 

"Flora?" she whispered. "No…NO!" She turned her head toward the chandelier where the Ghost still perched. "Damn you! DAMN YOU! YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!" A bolt of jagged lightning shot out of her hands, heading for the Ghost. Edwin could hear the dark shape scream with terror and throw a hand up across his face. Then there was another puff of purple smoke and he was gone. The lightning bolt bounced harmlessly around the ceiling a few times, causing the chandelier to swing precariously but otherwise causing no lasting damage. Flora's body had stopped twitching by now and even without the Drow makeup her bloated face would have been quite black.

Galen Odesseiron chose this moment to comment on current events. "Oh, that's really something!" he beamed. "Incredible special effects they have these days!"

"Be quiet", his wife said in a deathly calm voice. "Or you'll find out firsthand about those special effects, and trust me, you won't like that."

Flora Medora was dead. Of that there could be no doubt. A cleric had been summoned from the closest temple, but there was nothing that could be done. The body had been too badly damaged to allow for a raising of the dead woman. The Primadonna's body had been removed from the stage and brought into the women's dressing room, where it now lay on a couch. Edwin tried not to think too much about it. He was sitting by a table in the next room, a small office belonging to the Chorus Mistress, drawing a picture of a dragon breathing fire all over a screaming Opera Ghost. Painstakingly formed letters shaped the words: 'Die, die, die' and an arrow pointed at the Ghost so there could be no doubt who was implied.

"What does it say?" Ogder sounded curious. The redheaded boy was sitting next to Edwin, making a drawing of his own. Edwin was glad of the company. His Mother had told him that she would be back soon, but that if he wanted, he could go home at once with his Father. As far as Edwin was concerned there was no contest. As he read the words out to the older boy, he could see Ogder's shoulders sag.

"It's…it's all so terrible", he said. "Poor Madam Flora. I don't understand it. I don't understand anything anymore. How…how could anybody do such a thing, no matter what they thought of her?" He stared into empty space as he quietly repeated the question to himself.

"Yes", Edwin agreed. "Poor Madam Flora. She was really nice too." Then his face brightened considerably. "That mean old ghost won't get away though. Mother's a really good Necromancer, you know. She'll find out what Madam Flora knows." His grin became even wider. "And even if Mother doesn't, I'm sure Teacher Dekaras will. He can find anybody, and if he catches the ghost it will be really, really, really sorry."

Ogder didn't seem much heartened by this cheerful prospect. "Yes", he sighed. "I suppose so." He looked at the two burly men who had been posted at the door to make sure nobody disturbed the wizardess in her work. "This is all so strange." Then he sighed again and went back to his drawing, one of a hulking demon facing off with a heavily endowed swordswoman who was dressed only in a few tiny bits of chainmail.

"Wow!" Edwin said and stared at the picture. "That's really good."

"You can have it, if you want", Ogder said with a kind smile.

"I can? I can! Thanks! I'll put it on my bedroom wall. Say, can you write 'For Edwin' on it?"

"Of course. Just show me what those letters look like." Once it was done Ogder gave the eager little boy next to him a slightly worried look. "Er…perhaps you'd better not put it on your wall though", he said. "I'm not sure your Mother would like it, and I don't want her angry with me."

"Why wouldn't she like it?" Edwin asked, puzzled. "It's a great drawing."

"Well…er…there's the matter of the…uh… lady in the picture."

"Oh, her", Edwin said, dismissing the lovely half-naked woman and her ample equipment with a contemptuous sneer. "Who cares about her? She's just some silly girl. She'll probably catch a cold too in that stupid armor." He gave the drawing a loving look. "But the demon is really neat… I wish I could have one just like it."

Elvira Odesseiron, meanwhile, was extremely busy. She watched her old friend's corpse, ticking items off her mental checklist to make certain everything was ready. Poor Flora, she thought and fought to keep her grief back. Grief would have to wait until she got home. The spell had to be performed as soon as possible for the best possible effect. And Elvira never had been one to settle for less than the best. There was a flinty look on the wizardess' beautiful face as she started chanting her spell. It was a very complex one, and she really couldn't afford any mistakes. Eventually a faint silvery light spread out from her outstretched fingers and enveloped the still form in front of her. A faint mist rose from the body, a mist that slowly coalesced into the shape of the dead Primadonna.

"My friend", the spirit whispered. "You…have called me back?"

"Yes Flora. I'm so sorry for everything."

"Don't be. You…did what you could. You all did. I was…careless."

"Flora, I am not able to bring you back apart from this one visitation. But I swear to you that you will be avenged. Now tell me everything you know about what happened and I will make certain whoever did this do you suffers ten times what you did." The ghost started talking. She went on for a long time. Once it was done Elvira nodded. "I see", she said. "Go then, my friend. I wish you well on your journey."

The ghost nodded, and then the spirit form dissolved into mist once again, leaving a thoughtful wizardess behind. She sat in silence for a few moments, remembering her friend. Flora. Her kind, generous friend. One of the few people in her life who truly understood her, whom she felt she could genuinely trust. They had shared so much… "Oh Flora", Elvira sighed and wiped angrily at her eyes. "How could this happen? And to you, one of the most alive persons I've ever known?" She ground her teeth. "I won't let whoever did this get away with it, you know. They will be found, and they will be punished. I'll tear their heart out from their chests, still beating, and then I'll stamp it into a bloody pulp. I'll rip their screaming soul from their body and wring it like the dirty rag it is! I'll…I'll…"

And then she felt a hand on her shoulder and a voice spoke directly into her ear, its tone calm and collected but leaving no room for argument. "You'll go directly home and get some much-needed rest", it said. "I insist on it."

The wizardess turned with a sad smile on her lips. "You do realize I'd probably take the head off most people for telling me what to do?" she asked.

Dekaras shrugged. "But then, my Mistress, I am not 'most people'. And if I think you are about to push yourself until you fall apart, I will never hesitate to tell you so." He paused; his face unreadable. "Discreetly, of course."

"Of course. How could I ever think otherwise? But before I leave, what were you able to learn?"

"The poison was in a water carafe", the assassin said. "The water was always left backstage along with some glasses for the singers to use. There was a very light smell of lemons to the water, and that coupled with the condition of the body can only mean one thing. The Joy of Loviatar."

"The Goddess of pain and torture?" Elvira asked. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

"Probably. It is an extremely painful poison, one that causes a drawn-out death filled with misery. Very unpleasant, and the reason why the devotees of Loviatar tend to enjoy using it. Some say they developed it themselves. It is also very rare. I could assuredly get hold of some through the Guild if I wanted to, but it would take time and cost a lot of money."

Elvira thought this over for a few moments. "I see", she said, her face hard. "Am I then to assume that a follower of Loviatar killed my friend? That her suffering was intended to amuse?"

"It is likely that the killer at least had a contact among that priesthood", Dekaras agreed. He moved over to the corpse, silent as a drifting shadow. "As for the motive, I cannot say right now. I do not think it is that simple. There is this entire business of the Opera Ghost to be taken into consideration. I found something else as well, backstage. A brief note. Not one of the ones left by the Ghost though, it was in a different hand. Just a brief list of numbers, coupled with letters. Almost like code. 'F - 500. M - 300.' What it means I don't know." He turned around again to face the wizardess, his black-garbed form almost invisible in the darkened room. "I have also made the preparations you asked me to", he said. "Are you still intending that I should go through with it?"

The wizardess nodded, her dark eyes cold and flinty as she remembered her friend's agony as she lay dying. "Oh yes", she said. "We will discuss the details later." Her face softened again, and she gave her companion a small smile. "But right now, I will go home. You were right, I do need to rest, but that is not all I need. I am tired, and my heart is sore. I…I do not wish to be alone with my thoughts this night."

The assassin moved closer, his voice a low and silky whisper, almost inaudible. "Certainly, my Mistress", he said, his sharp face very serious. "As your devoted servant, your wellbeing has to be my first consideration. Rest assured that I shall be pleased to offer you whatever comfort you need."

"I know. I know, and I am…grateful, as you well know. Come then. Let us return home."

Edwin had some difficulty sleeping that night. His Mother had sat with him a while after he went to bed, waiting for him to go to sleep. She had told him that they would talk about what had happened to Flora next morning, and that was fine with Edwin. He didn't really want to think about it too much right now. And he was eventually able to fall asleep, but not until after he'd done a whole lot of thinking. He'd really liked Flora and he wanted to see whoever had hurt her punished, preferably in a painful way. Edwin managed to think of quite a few such punishments before he fell asleep, clutching his stuffed black bear tightly in his arms. The boiling oil was particularly satisfactory.


	3. Chapter 3

Edwin awoke early the next morning, unusually so. It was a few moments before he remembered what had happened the previous day. "Oh, right", he said. "The mean old Opera Ghost. Ha, he'll be so sorry, right Mr Bobo?" The toy opened its jaws and yawned silently, then rolled over in bed and fell asleep again. "Hey!" Edwin said and poked the animal in the stomach. "You can't sleep now! You'll miss all the fun." Then he thought about this. "But I guess Teacher Dekaras probably won't want to bring you along when he goes to kill the ghost anyway, even if he lets me come. I'll tell you all about it later instead." Having made up his mind Edwin hurriedly pulled some clothes on. Vaguely he thought about combing his hair, and then decided against it. After all, it would only get messy again, so what was the point? Satisfied with the perfect logic of this line of reasoning the boy then went off to try to find his teacher, prepared to attempt some serious wheedling.

Edwin eventually found the assassin as well as both his parents in the breakfast room, a round and bright room with many windows facing the garden. Sunlight was cheerfully streaming in through those same windows doing its best to lighten the atmosphere. It didn't succeed very well. Edwin's Mother gave Dekaras a very meaningful look as she twisted the leg off a roast chicken with an audible crack. The assassin raised an eyebrow and then neatly lopped off the top of a boiled egg with a single swift moment, whereupon he proceeded to viciously dig out the contents with a spoon. The tension in the air between them was almost giving off sparks. Galen Odesseiron was of course blissfully unaware of all this and sat cheerfully reading his book of Opera Autographs.

"Hello, son!" the wizard said and blinked as he saw Edwin enter the room. "Did you sleep well? Rotten luck about the show last night, I was really enjoying myself too. Oh well. At least I managed to get several autographs before going home…"

"Which ones?" Edwin asked.

"Oh, I forget. A few of the choir members, I think. I'd really like to get some more though. Like that pretty blonde girl."

_Wow_ , Edwin thought. _Ciri can actually write?_ Then he forgot all about the elven soprano. His Mother and tutor had both turned their heads as he came into the room and were watching him in a rather worrying manner.

"Good morning, dear", Elvira Odesseiron said in a calm voice. "Did you sleep well?" The wizardess was wearing black this morning, a long dress that could have been cut out of the night sky itself, and no jewels. 

"All right, I guess", Edwin said and remembered a dream about pushing the Opera Ghost off the floating chandelier. 

"Is that so", Dekaras said, his black eyes as usual seeming to see right through the boy. "No bad dreams? No questions you would like to ask? Considering that even I thought the events of last night rather nasty I certainly wouldn't be surprised."

"Well", Edwin admitted, "I did have a couple of dreams, but I'm fine, really. When are you going to kill the Ghost? Can I come? Can I? Pleeeeease?"

"Actually", his Mother said, "your teacher and I were discussing something of the sort earlier."

"Discussing, Mistress?" Dekaras said, with a slight hint of surprise to his voice. "I seem to recall you **ordering** me to bring a small child with me to work, a child that also happens to be rather impulsive and prone to getting into dangerous situations."

Elvira sighed with exasperation. "You're deliberately misunderstanding me, aren't you?" she asked. "Of course I don't mean for you to bring him along when you actually go after the Ghost. But as you are perfectly aware, you will need first need to interrogate the suspects. That will be safe for Edwin to watch, and it will be good for him as well."

"Good for him. Watching a group of grownups lie, accuse each other and try to shift the blame for a death onto each other. Pardon my ignorance, Mistress, but I fail to see the inherent benefit in this."

The wizardess looked serious. "This is Thay", she said. "He will not always be under the protection of his elders. The sooner he learns to recognize falsehood and duplicity in others, the safer he will be in the future."

"Perhaps", the assassin said, and his eyes were unreadable as he watched Edwin. "Yes, perhaps. I still do not like it, but I will do it. I just hope there will be no need to regret this."

The weather being fine this day there was no need for the carriage. Edwin eagerly followed his tutor through the streets of the city, immensely pleased at being allowed to come along. "Teacher Dekaras?" he asked after a while, tugging lightly at his teacher's black cloak to get his attention.

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you want me to come? I'll behave, I promise."

The assassin didn't answer immediately, and when he did his voice was distant, as if he were thinking about something else. "Your behavior is not the main issue here", he explained. "Say rather that I am reluctant to expose you to certain less than savory aspects of human nature unless it is absolutely necessary. If all goes as I expect we will probably learn a great many things about the people involved in this affair, many of them unpleasant."

"I don't understand."

"Exactly. There are certain things children are better off not understanding since they aren't ready to deal with them yet. Growing up too fast…can have its advantages. But there is always pain involved. You don't know what you have, but once you lose it you can never get it back again." Dekaras paused, and once he resumed speaking, he sounded more like himself. "But your Mother has a point as well. Knowing how to tell lies from truth will certainly help keep you safe when you get older. It may be that I am letting my personal experiences cloud my judgement. Just remember to tell me if something is bothering you."

"Oh. All right."

"Good. Ah, here we are now." The Opera House reared up before them like a giant beast crouching and ready to pounce. The gargoyles mostly seemed to be sleeping, less frisky now that there was no rain to stimulate them. Edwin's eyes lit up at the beautiful sight of the hundreds of stone monsters. If only there had been a way to bring one of them home with him… Perhaps he could borrow one of his Mother's summoning scrolls…

"Don't even think about it", Dekaras said in a very dry voice. "They have a very nasty bite. Now come along." 

Edwin blinked and followed the assassin into the Opera House. He hadn't been speaking out loud, had he?

The room was dark and impressive, dominated by a large mahogany desk and a tall chair. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with thick leather-bound tomes, and the smell of the many volumes saturated the air. A deep red carpet with intricate flower patterns lay on the floor, and on the walls hang portraits of some of the Opera's previous Primadonnas. Flora was represented, Edwin noticed. She was wearing chainmail and a helmet and was standing with her foot firmly planted on what seemed to be a dragon. This was the office of the Opera Manager. The manager himself was a dwarf named Turgil Skullcracker, and he wasn't particularly pleased with the intrusion. "Aye", he said, scratching his magnificent blond beard, "I got the orders. And the lady bein' the principal owner of the Opera I suppose I have to go along with them. Ye'd better not spook me singers too badly though, or I'll be forced to give ye a serious whopping." 

"I assure you", Dekaras said in a perfectly solemn voice, "that I shall do my utmost to be no spookier than is absolutely necessary."

"Well and good then. Ye let me know when ye're done with me office then, I've sent for the people as ye wanted to see and they'll be arrivin' shortly." The dwarf nodded and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.

"I never thought dwarves were that fond of music", Edwin said.

"Some of them like it well enough", Dekaras said. He had given the papers on the desk a casual look and now he was fiddling with one of the locked desk drawers. "Ah, poison trap. Rather old-fashioned one. There we are." The lock clicked open. "You want to remember never to ask a dwarf to sing a song titled 'Bags of Gold' though. That one is really horrible. But Turgil doesn't really need to be a singer in order to manage the Opera, he just needs to handle the finances and hire the right people."

"Oh. I see. Teacher Dekaras?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you breaking into his desk?"

The assassin sighed. "Surely it's obvious?" he said. "I want to see what he has to hide. Everybody's hiding something. In most cases it has nothing to do with what you're looking for, but you never know." He hauled out a ledger and started skimming through it. "Nothing out of the ordinary", he said. "Turgil's been skimming some money, but no more than can be expected from him. But here's something different…" There was a letter in the drawer, written in a feminine hand. "From the Lady Flora", Dekaras said after reading it through. "She was demanding more money for her work, it seems. She threatened to leave if he wouldn't give it to her."

"I get it!" Edwin eagerly exclaimed. "He wouldn't pay up, so he made the Ghost scare her, right? Right?"

Dekaras shook his head. "No, boy", he said. "Think about it some more. The Ghost was trying to make the lady step down, give up her position. That's the last thing her employer would have wanted. He might have tried to scare her, but he wouldn't have wanted to actually drive her off. He didn't have to, if he wanted her gone all he had to do was refuse her the money she wanted. Nice effort, though." He put the letter and ledger back inside the drawer and locked it again, using some sort of thin metal tool. "So. Shall we see what the singers have to say for themselves?"

The first person to enter was Ciri, the blonde soprano. She peered nervously around the corner of the door before entering, but she wasn't alone. Rovel Rannyel was with her. The tenor was red in the face and looked quite upset. "I demand to be present!" he trumpeted. "Ciri is a frail, delicate girl, and the recent shocking events have badly frayed her nerves!"

"Is that so", Dekaras said with a raised eyebrow from his position behind the desk. "Not quite as badly as the nerves of Lady Flora perhaps." He raised a hand before the other man could respond. "Very well. I make no objection to your presence, as long as you remember to let the lady speak for herself."

Rannyel clearly had expected more of a resistance. "Oh", he said, looking a little flustered. "Well. All right then." 

Ciri bit her lower lip daintily. "Oh Rovel", she said. "You are always s-so strong and protective, and I am so very weak and foolish. I wouldn't know what to do without you, really I wouldn't." She was wearing that snowy white dress again, and she carefully spread the skirts out around her as she seated herself on a chair, her golden locks flowing into her lap. Her radiant smile made her blue eyes light up. "Please, I only wish to help find the horrible beast who hurt poor Lady Flora. A-ask me whatever you wish."

Rovel positioned himself protectively behind the elf, placing his hands on the back of her chair and adopting a ferocious scowl. Edwin, who was sitting on the desk, legs dangling over the side, took this opportunity to stick his tongue out at the man. A very satisfying twitch at the corner of the tenor's eye was the immediate result.

"Perhaps", Dekaras said in a deceptively kindly voice, "you might begin by telling me whom you suspect of committing Lady Flora's murder."

"S-suspect? I can't say that I…that is, I don't like to speak about such awful things. Thinking bad, ugly things about people, it upsets me so…" The elf nervously twined a glittering lock of golden hair around her delicate fingers and shuddered.

"No? But surely you must have thought about it. Such an…upsetting experience must have preyed heavily on your mind. It would be only natural for you to speculate."

Ciri shot Rovel a nervous glance.

"Go on, dearest", the tenor encouraged her. "I won't let anybody hurt you."

"A-all right then", the elf said in a small voice, her hands trembling. "I don't like speaking ill of anybody, but since you ask… It probably means nothing, mind you."

The assassin said nothing, but simply waited for her to continue.

"Durel Fradelent was always t-trying to get Flora's attention", Ciri said, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. "You know…i-in an intimate manner."

"I see", Dekaras said, sounding for all the world like a kindly uncle urging a little girl to read him her ABCs. "And did the lady reciprocate his feelings?"

"Oh NO! At least I don't think so. She always turned him down." The elf stuck a finger into her pretty rosebud mouth. "At least she always **said** she did."

"That's right", Rovel Rannyel interjected. "But she was a…a free-spirited woman, you understand."

"Actually", the assassin said, giving the tenor a bland look, "I don't believe I do. Please feel free to fill me in."

Rannyel rubbed his square chin, paying particular attention to the little scar that formed an attractive cleft in the middle. "But…", he said, nodding in Edwin's direction.

Edwin gave him his best innocent and wide-eyed look. "That's all right", he said. "If you won't tell I can always ask Mother what you meant once we get home. I'm sure she knows, Lady Flora being her friend and all." He wasn't sure what 'free-spirited' meant in this context, but he was pretty sure it wasn't anything nice.

The tenor blanched a little. "Th-that won't be necessary", he stammered. "I meant only…that is…the lady was an attractive woman after all and…."

"Not more attractive than me?" Ciri asked, pouting. 

"Of course not, my sweet. Please, you must believe me."

"Oh, I see", Edwin interrupted. "You're talking about kissing-stuff." He made a disgusted face. "How come grownups want to do yucky stuff like that anyway?" The elf and her young admirer looked rather guilty and didn't quite meet his eyes. 

"So", Dekaras said to the couple. "You're implying that Fradelent might have had an intimate relationship with the lady, or alternatively that she might have turned him down. Is that it?"

"Well, yes", Rovel admitted. "He's very emotional. If he got jealous enough, he could have killed her in a fit of rage, whether they were currently involved or not."

"No doubt using the rare poison he always carried with him in case he should impulsively decide to kill somebody in the heat of passion", the assassin murmured. "I can't imagine why I didn't think of that myself. Speaking of poison…I believe you drank some of the water in question before Lady Flora tasted it, isn't that so?"

"B-before?" Ciri said, her brow furrowing prettily as she thought about this. "Well, I didn't see her drink, but I had some water, yes. I don't know if it was before or after."

"And you felt no ill effects?"

"No…no I didn't."

"So, it must have been before, then. Otherwise you would have been poisoned yourself, wouldn't you?"

"Oh!" Ciri said as she digested this. "Yes, yes that makes sense."

"And did you pour the water yourself?"

"She did not", Rovel Rannyel interrupted. "I poured it for her. And if you're implying that I'd poison my sweet Ciri, my light, my love, simply to get at Flora for some deranged reason, then…"

"Poison?" the assassin said, his face unreadable. "But the lady Ciri wasn't poisoned. I thought she had already answered that question." He shrugged. "So, since we seem to have established that you couldn't possibly have murdered anybody, I wonder if you'd mind answering just one or two more questions."

"Well, certainly", Ciri said with a kind smile. "I really want to help."

"Excellent. Here's the first then. Lady Flora seemed to think that you were interested in gaining her position as Primadonna for yourself; that you might even be involved with the whole plot to scare her away from the Opera. What are your thoughts on this?"

The elf's blue eyes filled with crystal clear tears. "I-it was all s-so unfair!" she sobbed. "I'm not interested in power or…or plots or any such low and dreadful things. All I want is to sing and bring some genuine emotion into people's lives."

"Now see here!" Rovel Rannyel protested, once again quite red in the face. "Leave her alone!"

Ciri raised a slim hand. "Peace, my friend", she said. "Only an elf or a truly good human could understand the joy inherent in touching the hearts of others. I do not expect to be understood by this one."

Dekaras seemed unperturbed by this. "I'm sure life in Thay must sometimes be difficult for a soul of your sensitive nature", he said. "Although usually not as difficult as for example the invasion of Aglarond. Plenty of death and brutality back then, and not all of it in the field."

"Oh yes", Ciri readily agreed, "in fact I saw things that…" She paused; her eyes wide. "That is…I…"

"Thank you, my lady", Dekaras said with a small smile. "That will be all for now. I will let you both know if I need to ask you anything further." Then he sucked in breath as if he had just remembered something. "Ah, yes. Just one more request." A small brown book suddenly appeared in the palm of his hand. "Would you mind giving me both of your autographs? I promised my employer I would endeavor to supply him with as many as possible."

Once the elf and the tenor both had left the assassin studied their signatures for a moment before putting the book away again with a satisfied nod. "That's Father's autograph book then?" Edwin asked. "Does he know you have it?"

Dekaras favored him with what in anybody else might have been called a look of hurt innocence, creating a rather sinister impression. "Of course he does", he said. "Never lie as long as a truth will serve you just as well. I fully intend to collect those autographs. And what do you suppose I intend to do with them?"

Edwin thought hard about this for a moment. "Those letters…", he said slowly. "The ones the Ghost wrote. You'll compare them with the autographs, right?" 

"Excellent." The assassin gave Edwin a look of warm approval, causing him to beam happily back in return. "You have been paying attention, I see. Yes, that is exactly what I will do. It might help clear up certain matters. Speaking of which, are there any questions you would like to ask about what we just heard?"

"Well, yes", the boy said. "How come we can't just use a divination spell to find out who killed Lady Flora?"

"A very perceptive question. Unfortunately, things aren't that easy. Divination spells aren't flawless. It is difficult to find a person if you don't have any idea who you're looking for. Nevertheless, an attempt was made on the night of the murder, but there was no useful information. There may have been illusory magic involved, but it is by no means a certainty. Anything else?"

"What does the invasion of Aglarond have to do with anything else?" Edwin asked. That had been puzzling him since he heard it mentioned. 

"I think we'll see if you can work that one out on your own. It was more or less taking a chance on my part; it was interesting that it paid off so well."

_It did?_ Edwin thought, feeling very stupid. He didn't understand at all. "Can I at least have a clue?" he asked in a plaintive voice.

"Very well. Think about the nature of elves, your own impression of Lady Ciri and the date of the invasion of Aglarond. See if you can put things together and it may lead you to an interesting conclusion, though it is a bit early to say what exactly it means." Dekaras paused. "You did well in distracting the attention of the lady and her chivalrous friend", he said. "When you're trying to extricate the truth from people who are likely to lie to you such tactics can be very useful. I will not require you to be on your best behavior during the upcoming interviews. If you want to startle people a little now and then I will say nothing against it, since it will allow me to take them by surprise while they are still reeling. Do you understand me?"

"Sure!" Edwin said. "You want me to be rude to them."

"If you want to put it that way. Yes. Don't overdo it, however. I'd rather not have all the singers at the Opera House bite off their tongues as they foam with rage over your finest efforts. Moderate rudeness will do."

"I'll help", Edwin promised earnestly. "You'll see, I can do this."

"Of that, my boy, I have no doubt whatsoever."

Durel Fradelent was next to enter. Thankfully the baritone was no longer wearing the hideous red costume of 'Mafistes, the Assassin'. Instead, he was wearing a hideous yellow costume that practically glowed in the dark. It made him look a bit like a buttercup, if it is possible to imagine a strutting buttercup twirling a black mustache between its fingers. "Ah", he said as he strode into the room. "Good day to you, sir. And the little tyke too." Edwin gave him a dark look, deciding to make the man pay for that remark as soon as possible. "A dreadful business about poor Flora, absolutely dreadful. Er…I have been told that you have been asked by one of our dear patrons to investigate the matter? Not to be rude, but are you really qualified? I mean, wouldn't the guards…"

"Please sit down, sir", Dekaras said in an even voice that carried with it the hint of a northern wind sweeping across a frozen tundra. "Let me assure you that while not a member of our illustrious lawmen, I nevertheless am in the possession of some small measure of capability. I do believe you will find me…qualified…to deal with any annoyance that may occur." 

The baritone looked vaguely confused at this, and also more than a little nervous. He did sit down however, jiggling his right leg incessantly. "Very well", he said. "Ask your questions."

"How kind of you." The assassin gave Fradelent a curious look. "Tell me, what was your opinion of the Lady Flora?"

"Why, she…she was a remarkable woman. I held her in high esteem."

"In high esteem. I see. And this was why you constantly persecuted her, trying to force your attentions upon her. If that was your way of showing esteem, then perhaps it was lucky for her that you never showed her your displeasure - if indeed you never did."

"I…I don't know what you're…"

"Oh, I think you do." Dekaras rose from his position behind the desk and walked slowly towards the other man, his feet making no sound against the floor. He put his hand on Fradelent's shoulder in a gesture of mock camaraderie. "What was it you said after she slapped you? Ah, yes. That she would regret it. And how would she come to regret it; I wonder?" A long finger lightly tapped the skin of the sitting man's throat, just above the artery, and the baritone flinched visibly. "A little cut in the proper place? But no, you wouldn't have either the skill or the nerve would you, 'Mafistes'? Poison now…anybody can sprinkle a little poison in an unguarded jug of water. Slitting a man's throat without him feeling more than a light sting - that takes skill. As I'm sure you know, 'Mafistes'. As any assassin would know."

"You…you're insane!"

"No, he's not", Edwin piped up. "But you'd better not make him mad. You wouldn't like that."

The assassin shot the boy a grim smile before turning back to his victim. "The boy has the right of it", he said. "You wouldn't like that. But of course, there will be no need for…unpleasantness…as long as you share what knowledge you possess with me. I hope you like sharing." 

Durel Fradelent was sweating heavily by now, and powder was running down his face, making the twin scars on his cheeks all the more visible. "I…I admit I may have been a little too eager with Flora", he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "But I never hurt her! I swear that I didn't!" 

"You passed very close by the water carafe that later contained the poison that killed her."

"But I didn't put it there! Honestly! It…it was probably that Madame Mis! She was right there, fussing over me as usual. She hated Flora, and she's crazy enough." The baritone was actually wringing his hands by now. "She was always going on about how Flora was disrespectful to the Opera Ghost. She might have wanted to teach her a lesson, and I think she may practice magic in secret, she certainly always goes on about charms and spells. I…I wouldn't even know where to start killing anybody. Or it could have been that bodyguard of Flora's. Standoss. I never trusted him, and he was hanging about behind the stage all evening. Ask him! Ask him about how he finances all the expensive drink he's always buying, or about his gambling. He's up to something, I tell you!"

"We will speak to him in time", Dekaras said, and Edwin felt a rush of fierce pride at the 'we'. "Right now, I believe I was addressing **you**. Have you anything else to say?"

"It…it could have been Rovel Rannyel. Or that prissy little elven girlfriend of his, Ciri. Wouldn't surprise me if she was after Flora's position, but she couldn't possibly fill it. She has no fire, no spirit. Why, when we performed 'the Three Princes' she wouldn't even wear the costume she was supposed to, just because it would have shown her back a little! Threw a tantrum she did, all weepy and sniveling." 

"Surely the lady cannot be blamed for being modest?"

"Normally, no. But she was supposed to be a mermaid for Oghma's sake! Who ever heard of a mermaid in a dress? And it isn't as if I complained when I had to dress up as a girl in 'Cleophylda and her suitors'. No artistic dedication, that's all I have to say. All fluff, no soul." He went on like this for a short while. When it became obvious that no more useful information was forthcoming Dekaras interrupted him and sent him on his way, after first collecting his autograph for future examination. 

"So, what do you think about 'Mafistes the Assassin'?" Dekaras asked with a small smirk once the baritone had departed the room.

"He's stupid", Edwin said, wrinkling his nose. "No wonder Lady Flora didn't like him."

"He certainly seems foolish in some ways. But he's not a complete fool, I'd say. He notices things around him. I don't think I'll rule him out completely as the killer just yet. And he made one remark that made me wonder about something…"

"Teacher Dekaras?"

"Yes?"

"What did you mean before? About him forcing his attentions on Lady Flora? What's so bad about trying to make her listen to him?"

For a few seconds the assassin actually seemed at a loss for words. "This is precisely the reason why I didn't want for you to come along", he said in a low voice, looking regretful. "How can I put this…you know how adults like to do certain things that children don't? Particularly adults who are especially fond of one another?" He made a small grimace. "Like the Matron Mother and the Hero."

"Oh!" Edwin said, understanding. "You mean like kissing-stuff."

"Yes. That is one way of putting it. Anyway, Fradelent very much wanted to do some 'kissing-stuff' with Lady Flora, despite her telling him that she wasn't interested. He may even have tried to hurt her to get his way."

"That's mean", Edwin protested. "How could he think she'd like him then?"

"At that point, he probably didn't care very much whether she liked him or not."

Edwin sighed. "I guess all that yucky kissing-stuff makes people crazy", he said, oblivious of his tutor's amused expression. "When I grow up I won't ever be that silly. I'm going to be a Great Wizard, I won't have time for stupid kissing-stuff. I'll be smart enough to do without it, just like you do."

"Ah…if you say so. You may be surprised at how the right girl can make you change your mind though."

"No way", Edwin protested, shaking his head violently. "Nothing could ever make me want to kiss some girl! That's just so icky! I'd rather kiss a frog." He thought about this for a moment. "I'd quite like to have a frog actually. One of those giant ones, the ones all covered with glowing green slime. Can I have one? Can I?"

"Ask your Mother."

"She'll just say no."

The assassin raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "No?" he said. "Do you really think so? But never mind that right now. I think it's time we had a word with the doom-laden Madame Misery."

Madame Mis looked much the same as she had when last Edwin had seen her. She was wearing the same black dress with its row of glittering buttons that ran from neck to hem, and the same shiny and pointed boots. The small woman primly sat down on the very edge of a chair, her pale face exuding extreme revulsion. "I'll have you know that I'm only here because I was ordered to come", she said. "And I warn you against mistreating me, or the Opera Ghost will be most displeased. As far as I'm concerned that woman got what was coming to her, and good riddance."

Edwin decided that he liked this woman even less than he had before, if that was possible. He quietly climbed down off the desk where he'd been sitting and walked over to the other side of the room, pretending to be interested in some books. The spell he had in mind was really only a cantrip, a small curse, but it seemed suitable. If only he could speak quietly enough that Madame Mis didn't notice…

"Is that so?" Dekaras asked in a mild voice. "And why do you think she deserved death?"

"She defied the Ghost, that's what! She would have brought doom down on all the Opera House with her actions. Nobody must defy the ghost!" 

"And how did she defy the ghost? By not resigning her position?"

"She should have just left", Madame Mis said stubbornly. "Nothing would have happened to her if she'd just left."

"Yes", the assassin said. "That is probably true. But it was poison that killed Madam Flora, not magic or a curse. Poison that somebody put in a certain water carafe sometime between the time that Lady Ciri drank from it and the time when Madam Flora did. Only a limited number of people could have put it there." He shrugged apologetically. "It would seem that you were one of them. And from what you're saying you hated the lady with a passion. It doesn't seem all that unreasonable to assume that you might take steps to get rid of her."

Madame Mis quivered with indignation. "Why, you…you…you VILLAIN!"

"If you say so, madam. Shall I assume that is your answer to my question then?"

"Most certainly not! I never touched that water, I tell you. There was no need. The power of the Ghost would be enough." It was at precisely that moment that Edwin launched his curse, having been able to use the Mistress of Costumes' raised voice to mask the sound of his own. All the shiny little skull-buttons on her dress suddenly took on a semblance of life and started speaking in piping voices. "MUAHAHAHAHA! I'm the dreaded evil Opera Ghost, and I've come to eat your SOUL! Cower before me, mortal!" Madam Mis shrieked and dropped to her knees, trembling violently. "NO!" she screamed. "Mercy! Have mercy on me, mighty one and I shall be your slave for all eternity!" 

"Ha!" Edwin giggled. "That's really funny!" 

Two bright red spots shone in the woman's normally papery white cheeks as she realized she'd been tricked. "You little DEMONSPAWN!" she shrieked, lunging for the boy with her hands outstretched like claws. Edwin prudently jumped backwards, but before she got close to him, she was caught by the scruff of her neck and firmly deposited on the chair again. 

"Let's try to refrain from personal remarks, shall we?" Dekaras said, still holding the irate woman in a grip that wasn't particularly painful - as long as she stayed still. "You might also try to remember that a demonspawn is generally the offspring of a demon. Do you really want a demon upset with you?" Madame Mis shook her head mutely. "Good. We will move on then. It has been suggested that Madame Flora was in fact poisoned, but not by the Ghost. One person implicated would seem to be Durel Fradelent, and the motive was to be jealousy and resentment since Madame Flora did not return his affections. What have you to say to this?"

"Lies!" Madame Mis spat, her eyes burning fervently. "He is a great man, a grand man. He would never have anything to do with that trollop, and anyway he never poisoned her. I would have seen that. I was there all the time. I saw. I saw everything."

"Really?" The voice of the assassin had lowered into what could best be described as a purr. "Then you saw who put the poison in the water?"

"No. Nobody did, I tell you. They couldn't have. It was the Ghost! Only the Ghost could have done it! The Opera Ghost can do anything!" 

"Indeed?", the assassin said with his coldest smile. "Then perhaps he won't mind me finding out if he is impervious to having a blade thrust through his heart. Somehow I think not." Madame Mis left shortly thereafter, but not until after having been made to sign her name in the autograph book. She swept out of the office still muttering quietly to herself.

"A very interesting cantrip, that one", Dekaras said and gave Edwin a curious look. "I don't think I recall seeing it before. Where did you learn it?"

Edwin squirmed a little. 

"You did learn it, didn't you?" the assassin said in an ominous voice.

"Well…I…sort of…"

"You've been experimenting again", Dekaras said, shaking his head. "I thought I'd warned you about how dangerous that sort of thing can be. Clearly I must have been mistaken."

Edwin hung his head. 

"It's not that it's not very clever of you to adapt a minor curse into a new one", the assassin went on, his disapproving look cutting the boy to the bone. "It is. But what you don't seem to understand is that it could easily get you killed or saddle you with some sort of nasty permanent curse. You do remember what happened last month, don't you? When you gave yourself rabbit ears?"

"But…", Edwin tried. 

"But nothing. You promised me to ask before you attempted such a thing again. I thought you could be trusted to keep your promises, but it seems I must have been mistaken about that as well." 

"I'm sorry", Edwin said in a small voice. 

"You should be." Seeing that the boy was properly chastised the assassin allowed some kindness to seep back into his voice. "I just don't want you to get hurt." He cleared his throat a little. "That said, your application of the spell was very inventive. Madame Mis seemed genuinely frightened, and unless she is a much better actress than I give her credit for that means she really believes in the Opera Ghost. That is useful information to have. Well done."

Edwin's face brightened again. "You really think so?" he asked.

"Of course. I would not say it otherwise." Dekaras paused. "Madame Mis obviously disliked Lady Flora", he said. "I do not think she poisoned her, however. But on the other hand, nothing says she can't have been an accomplice. She would do anything the Ghost told her; I think…"

"What about the Ghost?" Edwin asked. 

"Yes", Dekaras said. "What about the Ghost. There is something about that Ghost that doesn't quite add up. If the Ghost wanted Madame Flora dead badly enough to kill her with a particularly unpleasant poison, why the long period of relatively benign harassment? It's almost as if…" He paused. "Yes", he said. "Yes, perhaps. I shall have to think on it. But first, time to meet our last suspect. The final person who went near that water carafe between the time Lady Ciri drank from it and lived, and Madame Flora drank from it and died."

"The bodyguard", Edwin said, remembering the stern Bjeric Stardoss.

"Exactly. The bodyguard."

Bjeric Stardoss was hardly recognizable once he entered the room. He was still wearing the same brown leather vest, worn with many years use, and his face still looked like it had been clumsily chiseled out of a slab of granite. But his eyes were rimmed with red, sunken and filled with despair, and there was a slackness around his mouth that hadn't been there before. "Mr Amateur Investigator", he said with only a trace of his old fierceness. "Come to gloat over my failure, have you?" 

"Hardly", Dekaras said. "That would be, as you say, amateurish. I am simply here to ask you some questions."

"Questions! What do I care about questions?" Stardoss slumped on a chair, staring emptily in front of him. "No questions will bring her back…" 

"That is true. The right questions may help bring down her killer however." Dekaras paused. "I would like to offer my condolences for your loss", he said. "You…loved her, didn't you?"

For a moment it looked as if the bodyguard was about to protest angrily, but then his shoulder sagged with defeat. "Aye", he said. "I did. With all my heart."

"She was a formidable woman", Dekaras said, nodding. "I suspected as much when we first met, you know. And she returned your feelings?"

"I…thought so." Stardoss' face twisted with pain. "She said she did. That oily Fradelent kept sneaking around after her, but she never gave him the time of day. Or at least so she said. It was just my damnable jealousy that got in the way at times." He paused. "I know how that must sound. And I know I had the opportunity to kill her, but I didn't. I cannot prove it though." His eyes were suspiciously moist. "I don't know how her spirit will ever be able to forgive me. All I can think of is how I quarreled with her mere moments before her death."

Edwin felt really sorry for the man. He'd liked Flora, so he was prepared to give anybody a chance who seemed genuinely upset about her death. "Don't be stupid", he said. "If you were really her friend and you're sorry, then she has to forgive you. Otherwise she'd be mean, and she wasn't, you know that."

The bodyguard looked a little perplexed by this unique brand of logic. "Ah…I suppose so", he said. "Very well, then." He turned to Dekaras. "Ask whatever you like. As I said, I have no alibi, but if there is anything else I can do…"

"Most importantly", the assassin said, "I am interested in your opinion. Who do you suspect killed Madam Flora?"

"I'm not sure. Madame Mis is crazy enough, but I don't think she'd be able to plan such a thing. Still…if she had help, perhaps she could do it. But if I have to say one person, with complete disregard of evidence, I'd say that smarmy little Rovel Rannyel."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"He's totally besotted with Ciri, that's why. He'd do anything to help her get ahead. She's just a stupid and naive little girl, her singing voice isn't all that remarkable and she's a bad actor, but he worships the ground she treads on. She can do nothing wrong in his eyes. I heard you met young Ogder before? Well, only a few months back Rannyel beat him within an inch of his life for daring to become infatuated with the silly girl. The boy had to spend three days in the infirmary. Ciri was very tearful about it all, kept praying and praying for his recovery, insisted on visiting him, that sort of thing. It was all her fault of course. She should have warned the lad off much earlier, and instead she encouraged him. He was dealing with forces he couldn't handle. Rannyel is dangerous, I tell you. Ciri may not want anything other than to 'touch the hearts of others' as she says, but he wants fame and glory, on his own or through being the lover of the Primadonna." 

Dekaras had been listening to this diatribe impassively, but now a change came over him. "I see", he said, and there was something about the way he raised his head that was reminiscent about a wolf scenting prey on the wind. "Yes. I think I'm beginning to understand. It would fit…but there is something missing." He paused, handing Stardoss the autograph book and asked him to sign his name. Once it was done the assassin watched the signature carefully, his face giving nothing away. "Thank you", he told the bodyguard, his eyes distant. "You have been very helpful."

"But…don't you want to ask me any more questions?"

"Not at this moment." The assassin was smiling slightly by now, and Edwin had a feeling that that smile meant trouble for somebody. Bad trouble. "Though I shall certainly let you know if I need you." When Stardoss was almost out of the room Dekaras spoke again. "Oh, and just one more thing. What did you do with the money?"

Stardoss' back stiffened, and when he turned around again the motion reminded Edwin of a puppet on a string. "Wh-what money?" he asked.

"I think you know perfectly well what money", the assassin answered, his voice cold as winter. "I suggest you try to remember about it right now. Unless you want me to help jolt your memory?" His smile widened a little. 

Stardoss' face crumbled. There was no other word for it. "It…it was the gambling", he said. "I'd run up some heavy debts…I needed the money."

"So, you turned to blackmail", Dekaras said. "I found your little list of victims, you know. Once I learned that you had a mysterious source of income, I guessed what it meant. And what little sordid truths did you come across?"

Stardoss hesitated a moment. "Nothing much at first", he said. "Fradelent dyes his mustache to keep it black, Madame Mis has an illegitimate son…that sort of thing."

"I see", the assassin said, and Stardoss shied back at the look in his eyes. "And then?"

"Then…then I found something else. Except…except I didn't think it had anything to do with the ghost. I would have told if only I'd realized!"

"So speak! What did you learn?"

The bodyguard hesitated. "Not…not in front of the child", he said. "It's…too filthy. Please, let us go aside to speak of this further." 

Dekaras hesitated a moment. "Very well", he said. "I certainly wouldn't want him exposed to anything…too ghastly. We will step outside for a moment. And then you will tell me everything you know." He turned to Edwin. "Can you stay here on your own for a little while?" he asked. "We'll be right outside the door." 

Edwin nodded. "Of course," he said. "I'll be good." He sat down at the desk and took out the drawing Ogder had given him earlier. "I'll just sit here and draw a little


	4. Chapter 4

Once the heavy oak door had closed behind his tutor and Stardoss Edwin sat quietly for a while, dutifully drawing slobbering monsters as he had promised. He could hear the faint murmur of voices outside the door, rising and falling, but he couldn't make out any words. And then he heard something else. Singing. Faint and far off but singing all the same. And it was coming from somewhere inside the room. 

"Hello?" Edwin asked. "Is anybody there?" There was no response, just that faint music. Edwin got off his chair and tried to make out where the sound was coming from. After a few false attempts he managed to localize it. There was a large mirror on the wall, one that reached all the way to the floor, and the music was coming from behind it, but it was getting fainter now. Edwin hesitated. He knew, deep inside, that he really ought to go tell his teacher what he'd heard. But at the same time, he also really, really wanted to impress him by doing something clever, brave and generally wonderful. _I'll show him_ , the small boy thought. _I'll show him that I can be dev…devi…dovis…devio… really smart, just like him. It's not chess, but he'll like it all the same. I can be the pawn that turns into a Queen!_ He thought about this for a moment. _No, not a Queen. A King._

Secure in this happy thought Edwin examined the mirror closely. He'd never received any training in the art of searching for traps and secret entrances, but on the other hand he was very enthusiastic. The mirror's frame was covered with gilded little monsters, grinning monkey-like fiends. Edwin kept fingering them, touching and pressing wherever he could. Nothing happened. Eventually he realized that he was going about this the wrong way. _This is silly_ , he thought. _I'm doing it the wrong way. I'm supposed to be a wizard, aren't I?_ The spell he cast was a simple one, a mere cantrip. It probably wouldn't have worked if Edwin hadn't happened to be leaning against the mirror at the same time as he cast it, pushing against it with his body. As it was, when the hidden lever that made up a monkey's tail moved with an audible *click * and the mirror swung open, he fell inside, landing on the floor of a dark tunnel in an undignified heap. 

Once he got to his feet Edwin found himself in utter darkness. The secret door had shut behind him, and no matter how hard he pushed and pulled at it the mirror wouldn't open again. He didn't have any more unlocking spells handy either. At this point, the sensible thing would have been to shout for help, trying to attract his tutor's attention. Edwin's first thought was to do exactly this. But then, unfortunately, he had another idea. _This tunnel has to lead somewhere_ , he thought. _I can follow it to the other side_. He could just make out the sound of faint singing somewhere ahead. _Suppose that's the Opera Ghost! If I don't lose him, I could catch him! Grinning widely to himself he hurried down the dark tunnel. Won't Teacher Dekaras be proud of me when I bring him the head of the ghost…_

It was some time before Edwin reached the end of the tunnel, but eventually there was a faint light ahead. He crept ahead as silently as he could and found himself at a small door standing partly open. There was no singing to be heard any longer, but he could hear somebody speaking quietly. Carefully the boy stepped outside, to find himself in the gloomy Costume Department. The door shut behind him, leaving only smooth wall to be seen. Edwin found himself standing behind a rack of heavy coats and cloaks, and as he peered out between them, he was staring directly at the back of the Opera Ghost. The really wise thing to do at this point would have been to get away as quickly and silently as he could to get some help. But unfortunately, Edwin stayed put, curious about what the Ghost had to say. 

The Opera Ghost was still wearing a long black cloak with its hood pulled up so that it covered his head, and he still had that white mask in front of his face. Edwin couldn't quite make out the person he was speaking to, they were hidden by the Ghost's body as well as by the surrounding shadows. "But I don't understand!" the Ghost whispered. Edwin strained his ears, trying to recognize the voice, but he couldn't quite do so. "She wasn't supposed to **die**! We were only supposed to make her leave, you said so. You promised…"

A faint murmur in return. 

"Necessary loss?" the Ghost sputtered. "How…how can you say such a thing?" His form tensed. "You…I thought I knew you. But I don't, do I? You're the one wearing the mask, not me. And…and there is only rottenness and filth behind it! Your scars…they aren't what's truly ugly about you. You killed her, somehow you did. And…I…I helped you, didn't I? I believed your lies, about how she had mistreated you, about how you would reward me, about…about everything." His whispering voice was thick with misery. "You have ruined me, but I won't let you get away with it. I'll tell them, I'll tell them everything. I'll do it if I have to sing it out on the very stage of the Opera!" 

Another faint, almost inaudible murmur. 

"What? What are you saying? What are you…" And then the Opera Ghost screamed, a bubbling scream that quickly turned to a muffled groan. He crumpled to the floor, mortally wounded. Edwin gasped with horror. Then he immediately wished that he hadn't as he saw the other resident of the room turn towards him with a look of unholy glee. Edwin turned and ran. 

He had to get out, had to get help. Edwin ran as fast as his short legs could carry him through the silent gloom of the Costume Department, desperately trying to get away. But his pursuer was gaining steadily on him, and soon he would be caught. At his right the huge black form of the fake dragon reared. Edwin strained to reach it, already imagining the touch of icy fingers on his neck. A rope against his questing hands, a rope he hadn't been supposed to touch, and he pulled with all his strength. 

ROOOAAARRRR! The sound was deafening, and a jet of blue flame shot out of the dragon's mouth, causing Edwin's pursuer to shy back with shock and surprise. But it was only a temporary respite, and now the boy had been backed into a corner. Slowly, ever so slowly, the Opera Ghost's killer approached, pulling back the hood of a snowy white robe to reveal a flawless elven face framed by golden locks. The pink rosebud mouth was smiling, and the beautiful blue eyes were utterly devoid of pity or compassion. "Hello, my sweet one", said Ciri. "It seems there is more than one insolent boy about tonight. Well, I enjoy dealing with insolent boys." A slim hand reached out and Edwin felt a sharp jolt of searing pain stun him into insensibility. Then he neither heard nor saw anything else through the haze of pain, except the faraway sound of a door crashing open and Ciri's triumphant whisper. "And perhaps one naughty boy may help me handle another…Yes, my dear, I think we’ll have a guest…"

While Edwin was making his ill-fated discovery of the secret entrance, Dekaras was listening to Bjeric Stardoss making a very longwinded description of wandering about the basement of the Opera House and hearing singing from a distance. "And so, I followed it", he explained. "Don't know what I was expecting to find, really. But certainly not…that." What he had found was a mostly empty room. Mostly empty except for the altar and the…sacrifices…that surrounded it. There had been a dove, still alive despite its broken wings, and the feathers that had been plucked from its bleeding body swirled in the air like falling snow. The others had been even worse. Rabbits, rats, even a few kittens. All grotesquely mutilated, still alive and in great pain. "Well, I made sure they didn't suffer anymore", Stardoss said in a grim voice. "And then I tried to find out who'd done it, but they never came back." 

"No", Dekaras said. "They wouldn't. A cleric of Loviatar would have a way of guarding the sanctity of a chosen place of worship."

"Loviatar?" Stardoss said, looking sick. "I…I never imagined. I…I thought it might be some…some sort of prank perhaps…"

"You have some very strange ideas about what constitutes a prank then", the assassin snapped. "Personally, I don't tend to find that sort of thing at all amusing. And whom did you suspect of being the perpetrator of this…prank?"

"I don't know! There are so many chorus girls and errand boys, always under foot. Anybody could have done it. They're always about, you never pay any particular attention to them…"

And Dekaras froze as the reality of the other man's words came crashing home. _You never pay any attention to them_ , he thought. _And I didn't, curse me for a thrice-damned fool!_ Without another word he turned around and yanked open the door behind him. Then he stopped as he felt the icy tendrils of threatening panic entwine his heart. The room was quite and calm, and it was utterly devoid of any sign of a reckless little boy. No sign of Edwin anywhere, except for the drawing that still lay on the desk. The assassin picked it up, studying the carefully crafted drawing of a demon and a scantily dressed woman. There were other demons around them, drawn by a more childish hand. But the writing was that of a sure and elegant hand, the hand of an artist. _For Edwin From Ogder_ , it said. The letters matched those of the Opera Ghost. 

_How could I neglect him?_ Dekaras asked himself as his eyes wildly roamed around the room, scanning it for any hint to the whereabouts of the missing child. _Ogder told us, didn't he? He told us that he couldn't write, but that he could copy out any word necessary. I should have remembered. Now where's that accursed secret entrance? There has to be one._ His eyes settled upon the full-length mirror and he nodded to himself as he picked up the heavy chair belonging to the Manager of the Opera House. 

"What are you doing?!" Stardoss protested. "Can't you…can't you be a little more subtle and pick the lock or something?"

The loud crash and flying shards of glass and wood made a rather eloquent summary of the assassin's current opinion of subtlety. "I can be subtle when I have the time", Dekaras snarled and dropped the broken chair. "Right now, I'm off to fetch a certain child before he finds himself at the tender mercies of a person who enjoys torture more than anything." He stepped inside the hole in the broken mirror, and before he left, he turned around to look at Bjeric Stardoss. His eyes resembled chips of black ice. "Know this", he said, and his voice was a low and threatening hiss. "If he dies because you failed to talk earlier, then I will make you wish that you had died as well." He ducked into the secret passage with a swirl of his black cloak, leaving the sweating bodyguard in no doubt that he meant exactly what he said. 

As Dekaras hurried down the secret passage the evidence kept rushing through his mind. Mostly it was an aid to concentration, and a way to avoid thinking about what might be happening to Edwin at that very moment. _If…if that reckless infant survives this idiotic stunt, I'll probably kill him myself_ , he thought. Then he decided that he'd cheerfully die himself if that was the only way of keeping the child safe. It didn't seem as if he'd get the opportunity to do so any time soon though. The passage split in two, and there was no way of knowing which way Edwin had gone. Not, that was, until an enormous roar shook the walls, the roar of a stage-prop dragon. Deafening noise, that seemed a plausible hint to Edwin's current location. Without further hesitation the assassin ran on down the proper tunnel, pausing only as he exited the door. He knew the truth now, he knew who had been behind the recent events at the Opera, and he knew exactly how dangerous that person was. 

There was a dying man on the floor. Or rather, a dying boy. The mask had slipped aside, displaying his red hair. His freckles stood out vividly against the deathly pallor of his face. He coughed feebly and then turned his head to regard the dark and silent form of the assassin bending over him. "Ghost…", Ogder moaned, his voice almost inaudible. "Opera Ghost…I know you now. I'm so sorry. Meant no…disrespect. Only pretending…to be you. Mother always told me…never to mock the Ghost. Meant no harm. She told me…that it was for good. To help her. I…I loved her; you see. Ciri. My angel. Thought…she loved me as well."

"The child", Dekaras said. "Where is the child?"

"She…has taken him. He's alive." Ogder coughed again. "The roof…I heard her. She has gone…to the roof." His face twisted with pain. "Please…the pain of her spell…it hurts so bad. Please…let it end now, Ghost." 

The assassin watched him carefully. There was no way the boy could be saved; he knew the signs of impending death when he saw them and there was no cleric near. _Or at least none that can be trusted_ , he thought. It would be a mercy, perhaps. But before he had to make a decision Ogder closed his eyes and breathed out for the last time, his soul leaving him on that final breath of air. _And so dies the Opera Ghost_ , Dekaras thought, feeling some regret. _Poor, misguided boy. He never had a chance_. He reached down to pick up the white mask. It seemed right that Ogder's own face should be the one visible now. _To the roof then_ , the assassin thought. _Time to track down the one who pulled the strings of this poor puppet._

When Edwin came to it was dark all around, and a cool wind was blowing against his face. He was outside, he thought. He could just about glimpse faint stars overhead. "Where am I?" he asked. 

"Be quiet, little worm, or I'll make you wish you had been!" Ciri's voice wasn't breathy and uncertain as it had been before. Rather, it sounded very determined. She was holding him up by the arm, her other hand against his chest. And that hand was hurting him, burning and searing like fire, producing pure pain. The boy bit back on a whimper and tried to twist free. "Stop it", Ciri hissed, "or it will get much worse. This spell could easily be made to stop your heart." She chuckled quietly. "Or to tear it out. I did mention how much I like to touch the hearts of others, didn't I?"

Edwin was quiet. Much as he would have liked to tread on the elf's feet, this really didn't seem like the best time to do so. Perhaps he would get his chance later. He tried to see where he was instead. They were standing in a narrow space, a long and winding walkway high up on the roof of the Opera House. The floor was black and white, set in even tiles like those of a chessboard. Gargoyles were all around, hulking shapes with grinning maws and bulging eyes, now and then shifting slightly in the darkness. Evening must have come. He was in very bad trouble; he knew that much. Ciri had killed before, she wouldn't hesitate to kill him either. He was kind of surprised she hadn't done so already in fact. Not that he was about to tell her so. _This is all my fault_ , he thought, his mind frantic as he tried to think of a way to get free. _I should have gone for help; I shouldn't have run off like that. I…I want to go home._

"Why…why are we here?" Edwin hesitantly asked. 

"I like it up here", Ciri said. "The fresh air, the wind in my hair - it reminds me of home." Her nails dug into his shoulder. "I sacrificed much to gain my powers; you know. I won't have some little brat take it all away from me." Her hand floated above the boy's heart, ready to renew the pain spell. "Oh, did you mean why I haven't killed you yet? It's very simple, my sweet one. It wouldn't be enough to kill you. You aren't the only one who knows the truth. By now your friend will have figured things out, or he will soon. Lucky for me I was able to put my hands on you to distract him, isn't it?"

"No!" Edwin exclaimed, feeling horrified. "You can't!"

"I can. And I will. Honestly, do you really think he's going to let me throw you over the edge without trying to intervene? In fact, I suspect he'll be here any minute now - if he isn't already." Ciri tossed her head back with a triumphant smile, golden locks streaming proudly out behind her like a banner. "Slayer!" she shouted. "Show yourself!"

Only the mournful song of the wind answered. "Do it, slayer!" the elf taunted. "If you don't, he dies. If you try to kill me, my spell will take his life before my body hits the ground. My Mistress grants me many powers, you know that. Come out to face me, slayer!" 

And one of the gargoyles a short distance away moved away from its fellows, unfolding into a dark human shape. "I am here, priestess", Dekaras said. To a casual observer he would have sounded as calm as if he were taking a stroll in the park, but Edwin could tell that there was a hard and tense edge to his voice. "Now let him go unharmed, and you may live to see another morning." 

_The Black Knight and the White Queen_ , Edwin thought, his mind frantic with fear. Just like a chess-match. _But…but he can't possibly hope to fight her like this, she has the upper hand, can't he see that?_ And then he realized that of course the assassin could. But there was one more chess-piece on the game-board. Himself. The Black King. Edwin could almost hear his teacher's voice next to his ear, patiently explaining the rules of the game. _The King may seem a weak piece, unable as it is to move more than one step at a time in any direction. Yet it is the most important piece of all and must be protected at all cost. The King must be kept safe, or the entire game will be lost, and all the others are ready to be sacrificed to meet that objective._ Edwin was shivering by now. _No! No, no, NO!_

Ciri laughed, a tinkling laugh that reminded Edwin of falling ice crystals. "I may", she said. "And I may not. But first, it would amuse me to hear you tell me how you figured it out." 

"As you wish", Dekaras said, not taking his eyes off the blonde elf. "You are a good actor you know, better than most people understand or give you credit for. I suppose you've had quite some time to perfect that facade of naive and helpless innocence. The invasion of Aglarond was over a hundred years ago, and when taken by surprise you admitted having been alive then. I can't help wondering exactly how old you really are."

"It's not polite to ask a lady her age. I am well into my threehundreds. That is all you need know. Older than you, at any rate."

"As you say. An experienced woman. And that jarred me from the first. Elves may mature slower than humans, and yet you could hardly be an inexperienced child, or you would never have reached your current position, much less been able to hold it. You wouldn't even have been let out on your own. And yet you kept projecting that image of a helpless, trusting, vulnerable little girl. It struck me as suspicious."

"Very handy though", Ciri said with a slow and satisfied smile. "You wouldn't believe how many males readily leap to defend a poor, innocent little girl like me against a-all the evils of th-this cruel, hard w-w-world. Poor Rovel would die for me if I asked him to. I'll have to do that someday. Pity you aren't equally chivalrous." 

"Chivalry of your particular kind isn't exactly a survival trait, as I'm sure your brave young suitor Rannyel will find out one day, to his sorrow. Was it he or you who poisoned the water carafe, by the way? My guess would be that he did, you would likely have been clever enough to manipulate him and that way you could always blame him if something went wrong."

"How right you are. Yes, he did. The poor dear thought it was an emetic he put into the water, a little something to get that mean old Flora temporarily out of the way and allow poor, unappreciated young Ciri her chance to shine. When she died, I convinced him that it couldn't have been us. After all, I drank the water myself, didn't I?"

"So you did. I admit that puzzled me at first. I couldn't see how you could have done it without poisoning yourself." Dekaras shrugged. "Not until tonight, when it was mentioned how you'd kept praying for young Ogder's safe recovery after Rannyel beat him up. Then I remembered what I had seen on the night of Madame Flora's death. You were out there on the stage, praying in plain sight of everybody. Not for simple blessings or support though. You were purifying yourself of the poison, isn't that so?"

"Clever boy. Yes, you are quite correct. Though I admit I thought everybody would be watching the antics of the Opera Ghost. That's why I had him appear right then; you know. To draw the attention away from me." Ciri laughed again, that bright and cold laughter like falling ice. Her blue eyes were sparkling with mirth. "Poor dear. He'd been playing at being the Ghost for quite some time, just for fun. It was so easy to convince him that Flora was a mean and bitter old witch, constantly out to oppress me and put me down. All I had to do was smile and sigh a little, add in a few tears and he wandered straight into my net. He so loved the idea of being my savior knight, charging in to save me. I had him write those messages, telling him that I wanted to show Flora that she couldn't be mean to others and go unpunished. In reality it was all meant to make him get used to obeying me, so that when the time came, he would do as I said." Another trickle of sweet laughter. "He was so surprised when I finally killed him. And have you guessed why I did all of this?"

"You wanted the position of Primadonna. You aren't nearly as humble as you pretend, and I've heard you sing. You have a good voice."

"Why thank you!" Ciri's smile brightened. "That is such a nice thing to say, I'm almost tempted to let you live."

"How kind. Yet I suspect that you were also trying to further your other position, that of a Priestess of Loviatar. I knew one of your kind would be involved somehow when I found out what poison had been used."

"Yes. My Mistress of Pain will be very pleased with my efforts. Flora is dead, and those who loved her grieve her passing and turn bitter in their search for vengeance, poor Stardoss in particular. I wouldn't be surprised if he drinks himself to death. Ogder is dead, and he died knowing he'd been an unwilling party to murder, something that brought him great suffering. His mother will likely go insane with grief - you did know that Madame Mis is his mother, didn't you? That's where he got his ridiculous infatuation with the Ghost from. Rovel's love for me will thoroughly corrupt him in time. Perhaps I will let him share some of my triumphs, but I think it will be more amusing to string him along and then shatter all of his illusions about me once he has come too far to turn back. Yes, Loviatar will be very pleased." The elf's face was beaming with happiness by now. "And then there's you. You and that vile little fiend you call a child. I wonder, would it pain you more to see him die, or would the opposite be better?" 

"NO!" Edwin screamed. Completely forgetting about his own safety, he kicked with all his might, hitting the elf across the shins at the same time as his elbow was planted solidly in the pit of her stomach. Ciri grunted with pain and surprise, and the few seconds before she could recast her pain spell were enough for Edwin to twist out of her grip and scramble away from her into cover behind a huge gargoyle shaped like a cross between a pig and a lion. 

The elven priestess hissed with pain and rage, and she leapt onto the broad parapet to better be able to see the child, white robe glowing in the darkness like a shining star. But now the assassin was coming after her, a silent black shape moving towards her along the parapet like a specter of death. _Black Knight_ , Edwin thought. _White Queen._

Dekaras made a sudden movement, most likely reaching for some hidden weapon, but the elf was prepared, lashing out with another spell, a swirling cloud of red light. The assassin faltered a little, his step slowing, becoming more hesitant. "Feel it?" Ciri screamed. "Such is the power my Mistress Loviatar grants me, to touch the hearts of others and pull forth the secret pain hidden there, making it live anew! Remember it and feel the pain fresh once more!" And then she gasped with fear and surprise. 

The assassin was still coming, slowly but steadily, as if walking upstream against some mighty current, his face twisted into a snarl of pain but his eyes still glowing with menace. "I feel it", he said in a quiet and deadly voice. "And I…am used to it. Pain…only stops you…if you let it." He was still working to retrieve a weapon, and it was obvious that he would succeed at any minute.

Ciri's blue eyes were wide with fear by now, her pink rosebud mouth an O of surprise and dismay. She backed away until she could back no further, her back bumping into yet another stone gargoyle, one with the body of a snake and the growling head of a large wolf. The creature awakened and snapped after the elf, annoyed at being disturbed. She teetered on the edge of the parapet, wobbling uncertainly as she tried to keep her distance from both assassin and gargoyle at the same time. "No…", the elf whispered. "Mistress Loviatar, save your devoted servant. I sacrificed it all for you, you know that. Just this once…grant me the power of flight!" She turned, and she stepped off the parapet, never uttering a single scream as she plunged silently through the darkness like a shooting star, her white shape dwindling away into nothing. 

Edwin slowly got to his feet, his legs feeling highly unstable. Now that the crisis was over his heart wasn't beating quite as furiously as before, but his stomach still felt like it was about to jump into his mouth. 

Dekaras carefully got off the parapet, moving with somewhat less than his usual grace. Obviously, he hadn't quite recovered from the pain spell yet, whatever he might pretend. "Boy?" the assassin asked, his voice weary. "Are you…well?"

Edwin felt hot tears rising in his eyes. "I'm…I'm…I'm so sorry!" he wailed, sobbing furiously as he felt his teacher pick him up off the ground and hold him tightly. "I didn't mean to run away like that, I just wanted to help and it just sort of happened and…and….you could have got killed! And it would all have been my fault for getting into trouble." He cried some more, leaning into the familiar safety of his tutor's protective presence. 

"And are you truly and honestly sorry and regret what you did?" the assassin asked. 

"Yes", Edwin sniffed. 

"Then of course I forgive you."

"Really?"

"Really." Dekaras snorted quietly. "The fact that you made me destroy my reputation for being calm and collected under stress is another matter entirely. Breaking furniture…If your mother finds out I'll never hear the end of it." 

Edwin smiled feebly. "I thought about chess", he suddenly said. "See, the White Queen is powerful and has a long range, but the Black Knight can move in errt…arrati…erric…jerky ways and take her by surprise, right?"

It was perhaps to the assassin's credit that he was able to understand the meaning of this statement. "Perhaps", he said as he started to carry the still shaken child downstairs. "But I think you will find that the Lady Ciri wasn't quite a queen. Just a pawn…if a pawn with strong ambition. And it seems we've managed to keep her from reaching the eighth square - at least for now. She fell, but I think she landed in the river. I'm not sure she's entirely dead yet or if this was a victory rather than a stalemate. We'll have to send out a search party later." 

"Oh. Right." Edwin grinned widely and held on a little tighter to his teacher. "I knew you could take her though. You can do **anything**." He closed his eyes and soon fell asleep. 

The assassin watched the child, and he thought about the elven cleric of Loviatar, with her wide eyes and her sweet voice and tinkling laughter. Innocence, he decided, could be a very endearing trait. The real kind, that was. The other, he could do without. 

_The following day…_

She was alive. She could hardly believe it. Her Mistress had granted her prayer, slowing her fall to let her hit the river below the Opera House without breaking any bones - at least none that she couldn't fix. She shivered in her wet white robe, feeling the itch of the unsightly scars on her back, constantly hidden from the curious eyes of others. The clergy of Loviatar frequently flagellated or even mutilated themselves, embracing the pain their Goddess granted in order to gain more power. Her sacrifice had been greater than most, and so had the favor of her Mistress been in return. But no more. She had failed, failed utterly, and so her Mistress had turned her cold eyes from her. She was alone, alone in this cold iron cage where she had been put by the slavers who had dragged her out of the water, and her Mistress wouldn't hear her prayers. 

It reminded her of the past. Of her parents, who never really understood her and her need to prove herself, to be strong, to have power in and for herself and not just as a means to benefit the community. They had tolerated her, but they never could understand why what they had wasn't enough for her. Always holding her back, shutting her in. Still, she had been prepared to serve, after her own fashion. Her mother was a priestess of Aerdrie Faenya, a powerful one. She had thought to be the same. And why not? Was she not her mother's daughter, but with twice her fire and ambition? Why shouldn't the goddess wish to claim her? And then she could serve herself at the same time, while basking in the glory of the divine. Then she would finally get the respect of her mother, if not her understanding. 

But… again rejection. Hated rejection, the goddess turning her away, refusing her, deeming her unworthy. Unsuitable. It had stung, oh how it had stung. The goddess wanted to keep her weak, she had decided. Just like her mother did. Weak and helpless. If she was weak, she would be easier for them to control, to shut in, like a bird in a cage. She would not stand for it. She had fled, without thought of where she was going, and when she chanced to meet an ancient cleric of Loviatar she had known that it was a sign. If she had been rejected, she would reject. If they would not let her grow strong, she would claim that strength for herself instead, through blood if need be. And the pain they had caused her would be repaid manifold. 

Yet, for now she had failed. Been brought low. Outwitted. The humiliation was bitter, it stung her heart like the whip of her Mistress. It brought the sour taste of bile into her mouth. 

_But I will have my vengeance_ , the elf thought. _One day, I will. And elves live a very long time. One day, when they least expect it, I will be there. And in the meantime, I still can play a part when I have to. Perhaps…perhaps I'd better change my name though. For safety's sake._

"You! Elf!" One of the slavers, a big man with a harsh voice, was staring into the cage. "What is your name?"

"M-my n-n-name?" she said, making her blue eyes wide like those of a frightened child. "It…it is Cirindaeriella. But…but you may c-call me Aerie." _And I will bring pain to those who put me here. Pain beyond their darkest dreams, beyond the cut of the knife as I gave up my wings for the glory of my Mistress. So swears the servant of Loviatar. I will bring them pain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so I introduced my rather special version of Aerie, who will certainly not forget and forgive, and who will have an important part to play several years later, in Amn.


End file.
